


That's My Son, and I Won't Let You Take Him From Me

by Iliketrains12



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Brainwashed Peter Parker, Crying, Dark Peter, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, I'm Bad At Tagging, Irondad, Magic, Not a Star Wars fic though, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Tony Stark, References to Depression, Seduction to the Dark Side, Some references to the Force, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Using the Force as magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-09-07 18:59:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 46,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16859572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iliketrains12/pseuds/Iliketrains12
Summary: Peter saves a mysterious old man, who claims to possess magical powers. When he offers to take Peter under his wing, things go wrong...horribly wrong. But Tony sees the signs in Peter, the changes in his behavior, and will do everything in his power to protect the kid from the dark path he is starting to walk.





	1. With Great Power

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after a bad day, just to get stress off my chest. It doesn't start off dark at first, but makes its way in later chapters. This is my first fic so I'm open to suggestions. Please be gentle! Hope you enjoy!

 

“Ah.” Peter smiled as he shot a string of webbing through the night sky, swinging high above the streets. The web shot with a “ _THWIP!”_ before landing on the top of an apartment building ahead of him. Even when there was nothing to do, he always enjoyed freely swinging around the city. It was a great way to relieve the stress of dealing with Flash and his friends teasing him all day. Sure, it was nice not hearing “PENIS PARKER!” every day in school, especially after Spider-Man saved their butts in DC, but that peace only lasted a week. Oh well. Having Flash actually be nice for once was actually weirding him out anyway. In a strange way, he was relieved for everything to go back to normal even if it was eating at his mental state.

Peter dipped downwards and, at the very last second, sprang his legs way up above him to launch himself, spinning toward the moon above.

“Nothing like a little late night patrol, eh Karen?”

“It is relaxing tonight, isn’t it Peter?” she replied.

He had to admit, although things got boring fast after subduing the Vulture, it was nice to be able to relax on the job. Not that he was getting paid of course. In the back of his head, he sort of regretted turning down Mr. Stark’s offer to join the Avengers. But hey, _somebody_ had to look out for the little guy. After all, if all superheroes were in the Avengers fighting aliens and stopping evil organizations from world domination, who would help the old lady cross the street? Or stop bank robberies on a daily basis? Still, he felt like he had made a mistake, or maybe it was because he missed hearing Mr. Stark talk to him. It had been months since they talked. Of course, Peter knew that Mr. Stark was a busy man, so he tried to convince himself that he was satisfied by simply calling and telling him how his patrols went every so often. Rather than every day, he shortened up by doing two a week. Still, he wished that Mr.Stark would call him, for anything. 

“Welp, snack time!” He said cheerfully, landing on a roof nearby.

He whipped out a flattened sandwich that was in his messenger bag and practically inhaled the poor thing. With that super metabolism, the sandwich didn’t stand a chance. Peter then wiped the remains of his meal from his face, thankful no one saw that. He was about to put his mask back on and head home, bored for the night, when he heard a man screaming below.

“Help! Somebody! Police!”

It only took a second for Peter to slip his mask back on and swing into action. His heightened senses honed in on the screams. Looking to his left, he saw an elderly man in a gray jacket and jeans, and he was running for his life! Peter could practically hear the poor man’s heart racing from where he watching. Instantly he dove from the roof, and slingshotted himself towards him with his webs.

“Don’t worry!” He called out as he landed behind him. “I’m here! Spider-Man’s here!”

The frightened elder stopped and clinged to the boy’s arms for dear life. Peter’s Spider Sense began to tingle. He glanced around, but saw and heard nothing. Suddenly he felt a warmth in his right arm, where the old man’s hand was grabbing him tightly.

“Peter.” said Karen. “I sense a spike in temperature coming from your right forearm. No physical damage detected. Are you feeling okay?”

He was too distracted to answer.

“He’s after me!” The old man panted, exhausted.

“Wait-wait. Whoa. Calm down. Just breathe okay?”

“He’s after me, Spider-Man! I don’t know why! He’s trying to kill me!”

The elderly man clung to Peter’s arms and fell to his knees, presumably from exhaustion. He _was_ old, after all, thought Peter.

“Come on, get up.” Peter said urgently. “Who’s after you? What did you do?”

Before the old man could answer, another male voice called out from the darkness. Peter felt his Spider Sense tingling once again.

 

“Let him go! He’s mine!”

Another man in plain clothes, stepped from the shadows. He was tall, with black hair and a booming voice that commanded respect.

“Whoa. O-okay. Everybody just-” Peter stepped between the two, trying his best to practice diplomacy before things ever got ugly.

“Everybody calm down. What’s going on?”

The old man fell to the ground in fear, and pointed at the other figure who was slowly approaching with his fists clenched.

“Spider-Man! He told me he was in some kind of cult. He wants to kill me!”

Peter straightened his back and puffed out his chest in defiance. He had to work on his assertiveness anyway. This would be a good chance, he thought.

“Nobody is killing _anybody_!” He yelled. “Not while I’m around!”

The man scoffed at him and smirked. “And who are you?”

With that, Peter deflated. His arms drooped, shoulders lowered, he just narrowed his gazed with his spider-eyes of his on the mask.

“S-Seriously? You don’t know me?” He was legitimately shocked. “I mean, I saved a bunch of kids in the freaking Washington Monument! I stopped a guy from dealing alien tech on the streets. I mean, I’m here all the time!”

The man gave a blank stare.

“I’m uh...I’m Spider-Man.” A sudden boost of confidence flooded his body and he once again puffed his chest. “I mean- ahem… I’m Spider-Man!”

“I don’t care if you’re Thor or Iron Man himself!” The man yelled through gritted teeth. “He’s coming with me! I am a member of the-”

He thrust his right hand into his jacket pocket. Peter’s instincts immediately kicked in and he quickly shot a ball of web that trapped the man’s hand. For all he knew, that could be a gun or a knife. No one’s gonna get hurt, not on his watch. Peter tackled the man and turned his head to the old man, who stood to his feet and walked toward him.

“The situation has escalated.” Karen said in her usual tone. “Peter, if that man is armed, you are all in danger. Shall I call-”

“It won’t come to that, Karen!” he said. Although he was unsure of himself at this point. “What’s in your pocket, sir!?”

While keeping the man held down, Peter tried to think.

_What do I do? What do I do?_

The man began to break free of the web’s holding, but Peter was too lost in thought to notice Karen warning him of the threat.

“What I do is not your concern, Web-Headed one! Now out of my way!”

With a sudden burst of electrical energy, Peter was sent flying like a ragdoll, his vision fading to black. With a groan he slowly pried himself off of a brick wall, and felt his vision slowly come back to him.

“Peter.” said Karen. “Are you alright? Scanning.”

The first thing he saw was the old man beaten and bloodied on the ground, and the younger individual towering over him. The younger male raised his right hand in the air and called forth a ball of lightning.

“You appear to have suffered a significant amount of blunt force trauma.” Karen spoke again. “No broken bones detected. Shall I call Mr. Stark?”

 

“No!” Peter screamed in anger. Nobody’s going to die, he kept telling himself. The old man stretched out his hand to him, whispering words that Peter assumed were begging for help. He tried to remain calm. But in that moment, knowing that he must act, that he had let the situation come to this, that he was going to let someone die if he didn’t step in. He felt nothing but rage. At himself for being so indecisive, at not knowing what to do. At everything that made him a failure while the Avengers did all the cool things. In his anger, he launched his body like a missile and smashed his fist into younger man’s face, with a loud crunch. The man was sent flying a good ten feet before landing on the ground.

_Oh no! No. No. No!_

The man didn’t move.

“Thank you, Spider-Man!” the elder cried. “You’ve saved me.”

“But...” Peter said softly. “That man. I hit him too hard. I-I don’t know what came over me!”

The old man gently patted his shoulder. Suddenly Peter felt calm, as if this man were suddenly as familiar as a kindly grandfather.

“Young lad. He will live. You have saved my life, and for that I will never forget. Please, allow me to pay you back.”

Peter never took his eyes off of the limp body. To his relief, he saw the chest still moving up and down. “No, thanks sir. I can’t possibly accept that.”

“As you wish. But at least allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lucius.”

Peter shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. Do you want a lift home?”

Lucius smiled kindly at the young boy. He’ll do just fine, he thought to himself. He’ll do.

“That might be best. I’d rather not get mugged again.”

Lucius’s house was thankfully on the way home. Conveniently, he had a home in Forest Hills, not too far off from Midtown. Peter dropped him off, and swung back to his apartment. Hopefully Aunt May wasn’t going to be too pissed off this time.

* * *

 

The next morning, Peter woke up stiff. He groaned as he flopped out of his bed onto the floor. Was he really hit that hard last night? Thank God it was Saturday. Examining his arms, he noticed that there were no burns on him or singes on his costume from the blast of lightning he took.

_Holy crap._

Blasts of lightning? Did he fight a wizard?! He could hardly contain his excitement as a big grin spread across his face. Oh man, Ned would be so jealous right now! Peter reached for his costume and shoved it into his backpack. Already he whipped out his phone and sent a text to his “guy in the chair”, though he was still grounded for watching porn at school. Poor Ned. Took one for the team.

_Dude you’re never gonna believe what happened!_

Peter tapped his foot waiting impatiently for a reply. He had to tell somebody what happened! But then he remembered his mistake. All color washed from his face, as he remembered exploding in a fit of rage and smashing a man’s jaw with his fist. Why did he do that? In fact, all last night he was in an emotional roller coaster. Was it just being a teenager or was it something else? He couldn’t figure it out, and that just made it worse. He felt that, in that moment, he failed in heeding Uncle Ben’s words of great power and great responsibility. Thank God that poor man was still alive. But the guilt didn’t go away.

“Maybe,” He said to himself. “Maybe I should take a break from Spider-Man today.”

Suddenly his phone rang.

Great, he thought. Of course Ned would call back after he started to feel like crawling back into bed.

“Hello?” He sighed.

“Hey, kid. Are you alright?”

Peter shot up. It was Mr. Stark! Oh no, what if he saw what happened?! Dang it! What if Karen told him?! What if his suit got taken away again?!

“Um- Uh Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Uh...how are you today?”

Smooth, Parker. Obviously Tony wasn’t buying it.

“I’d be doing better if I didn’t get a message from a little birdie telling me that you had some issues last night that I should know about.”

Oh no, here it comes.

“Now she didn’t give me specifics so, Kid, you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

He was speechless, stuttering with uh’s and um’s for a whole five seconds.

“Come on, Parker I don’t have all day. I have a Press Conference in fifteen minutes.”

“Okay!” He blurted out. “I may have just… hit a little too hard last night on a bad guy. And just feel bad about it. That’s all.”

If this were a video chat, Peter would see Mr. Stark narrowing his eyes, giving him the “You’re hiding something” look.

“So you hit a ‘bad guy’ a little hard? Fair enough. Probably deserved it. Now here’s the important thing. Did you kill him?”

“No!” Peter nearly screamed. “I mean, no. No of course not, Mr. Stark. I know better than that.”

“Did you cause him enough pain that he’s probably in intensive care right now?”

“N-no...” His heart sank. Why couldn’t he be honest? But maybe he was telling the truth. After all, he never did go back and check. He should have though. He usually would. Was he getting sloppy?

“Good.” said Tony in a dismissive tone. “You’re fine, you’re probably just overdoing yourself, again. Now do me a favor. Take a little break from superhero-ing for a couple days and be a kid. Go out. See a movie, go to a party… but don’t do drugs or anything.”

No, Peter thought. I _have_ to be honest. Especially to Mr. Stark! I owe him so much. I just want him to know that. To know that he’s like a…

“Kid?”

Peter’s train of thought lost, he hurriedly answered with a quick “Yes, I’m here.”

“You gonna do what I said?”

“Yes, but Mr. Stark I need to-”

“Ah ah! No ‘but’s, young man! You go and enjoy yourself. Take it from me: you’re only young once. Don’t let it swing by. End call.”

“That was a terrible pun. But wait, but Mr. Stark!”

The call ended.

Peter sighed. Why couldn’t he just tell him the truth? Pathetic, Parker. Just pathetic. He could hear the voices in his head mocking him. Mr. Stark deserved better than that. Checking his phone, he saw that Ned still hadn’t responded. Maybe he was still asleep. Or maybe after so long he just stopped caring. Somehow, it didn’t matter right now. All Peter wanted to do was escape from his shitty life at school by being Spider-Man. But now he couldn’t even do that without guilt and shame. Be a kid? He wasn’t a kid! He was already 15 years old and had superpowers. He had nearly died many times on a ferry, the Washington Monument, a crashing plane, the list goes on. In Peter’s mind, there was no “be a kid”! He had to prove himself, to the city, to the Avengers, and most of all, to Mr. Stark. He _had_ great power. So he needed to prove to everybody that he also had great responsibility, even if it killed him.

 


	2. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter struggles to forgive himself after his mistake that night, and as he feel more isolated from the ones he loves, a news report destroys any hope he had of coming to terms with it.

Swinging from skyscrapers isn’t what it used to be. Even diving headfirst from the top of the building and shooting his webs at the last possible second didn’t give him any sense of thrill or pleasure anymore. Ever since crushing that man’s jaw, Peter felt horrible. His eating lessened, he didn’t talk much in school. Ned tried to apologize for not responding last week by saying he was sick, but Peter just said okay and shrugged him off while shutting his locker. Flash’s taunting didn’t seem to affect him on the outside, but every remark of “Hey Penis Parker! Playing with your Legos?” or “You’re such a loser!” he would internalize. After school he’d immediately bolt to the door rather than talk to MJ or even Ned most of the time. May often asked him what was wrong, but Peter kept to himself. The last thing he needed was someone else burdened with his problems. Unfortunately this led to many late night arguments with his aunt, which ended with Peter either bolting to his room and slamming the door, or sneaking out as Spider-Man again. The only thing going for him was his grades. He still maintained straight A’s, and would often sit outside coffee shops and observe the world passing by him.

 

He’d look at all the busybodies going about their daily lives. Shopping, arguing, walking the dog, it was all so...boring. Peter couldn’t shake this weight he was feeling ever since that night. Maybe this all started before then. Maybe Mr. Stark was right and all that superhero stuff was wearing him out. It didn’t matter. There were still people out there who needed his help. He couldn’t let them all down. Even though Mr. Stark had told him to take a break, there was no chance of that happening. He had to atone for what he did, somehow. One day, Peter started his patrolling early. Landing on a building, He scanned the area looking for any signs of crime or distress.

 

“You haven’t spoken to me, lately.” said Karen. “Is there something you would like to talk about?”

“Not really, Karen.” he replied, somewhat irritably. “I’m still a little hurt you went to Mr. Stark when I had things under control.”

“You did not.”

“Yes I-”

Before he could finish, his memory flashed again to that night. Peter flopped on the edge of the building and covered his masked face.

“No I didn’t.” he croaked, trying to hide his sadness. “It’s just. I don’t know Karen. Everything feels gray. It’s like I don’t know what to feel lately.”

“It’s okay to ask for help, Peter. It shows maturity, not weakness.”

“I don’t know, Karen. I guess I’m just...down about it all.”

“Have you been eating? Getting enough sleep?”

Peter let out a tiny sob. “No.” He said weakly.

“It is important to take care of your well-being.”

“I know Karen, but I just. I don’t care anymore.”

“It sounds like you are experiencing some symptoms of depression.”

“Karen.”

“Shall I consult a nearby mental health care professional within a 25 mile radius?”

“Karen, please-”

“Shall I call Mr. St-”

“No!” Peter snapped. “I mean. Just, never mind.”

“Alright, Peter.” his suit told him. “Alright.”

“And please. Don’t call Mr. Stark again unless I TELL YOU TO!”

“I’m sorry. I did not mean to upset you.”

 

For hours, Peter remained silent, swinging lazily from place to place without any purpose. Karen had tried starting conversations, mostly about his mental state and how he was feeling, but Peter ignored her. He knew if he said anything, especially the truth, Mr. Stark would be called in less than two seconds. He wasn’t Spider-Kid, or Spider-Boy. He was Spider-Man, and he had to deal with things on his own.

“Spider!” an old man called from below. “Spider-Man! Is that you?”

Peter looked down to see who was calling for him. In the midst of a crowd of pedestrians stood a white haired older gentleman in plain clothes. That grandfatherly voice once again made Peter feel more at ease. It was Lucius again! Curious, Peter dropped down and landed right smoothly behind him.

“Hey, Lucius. Doing okay?”

Honestly, he’d rather not see someone he had saved. It felt like sort of a violation of the Hero/Saved Person relationship, or that’s what he called it anyway. Too late now, being called out in the open like that. At least Lucius appeared friendly enough. He smiled and took his hand.

“There you are, my boy. Good to see you.” Lucius paused and gave his hero a look of concern.

“Son,” He said softly. “Is everything alright?”

 _Is this man a psychic or something?_ Thought Peter.

“Yep. Everything is good.” He said nervously. “Couldn’t be better. Even got a tasty sandwich for lunch.”

He was about to shoot off a web to swing away, feeling somewhat uneasy about the old man, when Lucius made a remark that caught him off guard.

“It’s Stark. Isn’t it?” Lucius said gravely.

Peter froze.

“The suit. I mean. It looks really fancy. Very high-tech. I can only assume-” said Lucius, waving his hand as if to admire the suit. “- That it was made by his company or perhaps...Tony Stark himself.”

“Well, yeah.” said Peter. “I mean...I can make my own but-”

Lucius cut him off, his tone became more sharp. More aggressive. “And I assume then, that Mr. Stark is quite proud of you, is he not? Perhaps he even let you join the mighty Avengers.”

That last comment hit him like a ton of bricks. Was Mr. Stark really that proud of him? Was he just showing pity when he offered the kid a new suit? A place with earth’s greatest heroes? Just to shut him up? No. No, Mr. Start would never do that. This was just his mind, his doubt growing. Playing tricks on him.

“Look. No offense, Lucius. I’m sure you’re a really good guy, but I don’t really need you digging into my relationships with other people. Thanks.”

Lucius slowly blinked, and brightened his tone. “You’re right. I’ve overstepped my boundaries.” He said, arms open. “I’m sorry. Tell you what, Spider-Man. To make it up to you, I’ll give you my card. And if you ever need my help, simply call on me and I’ll appear.”

What the heck? Peter didn’t like this at all. Lucius reached into his pocket and pulled a small business card from his left side. He tried handing it to Peter, but he shook his hands in refusal.

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary sir.”

“What?” said Lucius, a grin forming on his face. “I may not be physically capable but-”

Suddenly tiny strands of flames flew from his fingers, disappearing into the sky above.

“-I can certainly hold my own if need be.”

Peter was just as surprised as the people around him, only he didn’t freak out and run. He simply stood there, in shock. Even his spider-eyes were wide open.

“Whoa...”

 

* * *

 

“You turned down a freaking _wizard?!”_ Ned practically shouted at Peter.

The two of them were in Ned’s room, putting together a Lego model of the Millennium Falcon. Peter shushed him, checking frantically to make sure nobody else had heard them. Ned shook his head in disappointment and assembled what would be part of the cockpit.“I just don’t get it, Pete.” He whispered. “Why turn down the chance to be Spider-Wizard-Man? You could be like ‘Fireball!’ and _BAM_! Melt stuff! Or “Magic Missile!” if there’s like a bunch of guys coming at you. Dude, you could carry a staff!”

“Ned!” Peter spat through his teeth, still keeping his voice low. “It’s not that! It’s _him._ This ‘Lucius’ guy. I don’t trust him. There’s something wrong about him. He gives me the creeps.”

“But why?”

Peter tried to put words to what he felt but, nothing really came to his mind. When he was around the old man, everything felt alright. But once he was away from the guy, just his name made his hairs stand on end.

“I don’t really know, man. He just does.”

“Well, I’m just saying bro. If anybody came up to me with fire shooting out of their fingers saying ‘I’m a wizard and I wanna teach you how to be one too”, I’d be all over that.”

Peter smiled. “I… could totally see you being a wizard.”

Ned was glad that he finally got his bro to smile for the first time in weeks. He wasn’t quite sure what had his friend so disturbed, but if he could get Pete to smile, even for a second, that was what mattered. That’s why it hurt him terribly to be the bearer of bad news, but there was no way around it. Ned attached the cockpit piece to the rest of the Falcon, and cleared his throat.

“Hey so, um Pete.”

“Yeah man, what’s up?”

Peter noticed Ned’s breathing change. He was getting nervous.

“Um.” Ned took a breath. “So break’s coming up soon and we’ll be out of school for Christmas and stuff...”

Oh great. Peter already knew what was coming.

“And um. We’re going to be out of town to visit family in Oregon.”

Just what he needed. Another person gone from him, when he needed him the most. He couldn’t talk to May without an argument, Mr. Stark was never there, and now Ned was leaving him too. His best friend. At least it was only temporary. But in the present moment, that didn’t seem to matter. Peter choked back any feeling of sadness or disappointment.

“Oh.” he said. “Well, that- that’s great. Ned. That really is.”

“I’m sorry, man.”

“No, really.” Peter tried to force a smile. “That’s cool. If you see Liz, tell her I said hi. Or...you know what? Never mind. That’s probably not a good idea.”

Ned agreed. “But we can still call and play online and stuff.”

“Yeah. Sure. That’s fine.”

Liz. Just another person he loved, gone from his life. God, Peter could practically hear Mr. Stark in his head right now, lecturing him on puppy love, something about plenty of fish in the sea or something. It sounded like something he’d say, anyway. Liz, May, MJ, Mr. Stark, and now Ned.

 

 _I’m alone._ Peter said internally. _I’m actually, really alone._

 

* * *

Over time, his patrolling time grew longer. His time with Aunt May shrank, and night after night she cried wondering where he was. Why did he come home bruised? Why didn’t he speak to her anymore? What was bothering him? So many questions. Questions that Peter himself couldn’t fully answer. One night, May heard a slam upstairs, as she was pulling a meatloaf from the oven.

“Peter?” she called out. “Is that you?”

“No.” He shouted back. “I’m not here.”

“Smart-ass.” May whispered to herself.

Upstairs, Peter threw off his costume and changed into his pajamas. He winced as the pant legs rubbed against a large scrape on his leg from where he had fallen carelessly and misjudged his timing of his own web shooters. Thankfully his healing factor would take care of it. His nose curled at the stench of something awful in his home. It was Aunt May’s meatloaf. On top of that, she had the TV on loud enough for him to hear a news report about a death in Queens.

“A man in Queens was found dead today, from what police conclude was a homicide. The victim, who is remaining anonymous, was found with a fractured skull and a shattered jaw. He suffered more injuries including burns on his chest and abdomen. It is believed he died from his injuries. Authorities are still unsure of the motive or suspects. Eyewitnesses say that Spider-Man could be involved, however...”

After that, the rest of the report was just noise.

“Oh no.” Peter said sorrowfully. “I did it. I.. I killed him.”

Tears began to well up, and as much as he wanted to break down right there, he fought to stay in control.

 

“ _So you hit a ‘bad guy’ a little hard?”_ Tony said to him earlier. _“Fair enough. Probably deserved it. Now here’s the important thing. Did you kill him?”_

“ _No! I mean, no. No of course not, Mr. Stark. I know better than that.”_

“ _Did you cause him enough pain that he’s probably in intensive care right now?”_

“ _N-no...”_

 

“I need to get out.” He said quietly to himself. “I can’t breathe. I need to get out. I-” He was halfway through re-opening the window, his suit crumpled in a ball under his armpit, when the bedroom door swung open. It was Aunt May, and she was pissed.

“And where do you think you’re going?!”

Peter had already braced for impact at Aunt May’s wrath. Unwilling to move, he looked over his shoulder, eyeing her, his eyes widened in fear.

“Um… out?”

That was no good. Come on, Parker! He thought. He had to do better than that.

“I was gonna swing by Ned’s house.”

May stepped into the room, never taking her eyes off of Peter.

“I left my homework there, “he continued, stammering. “And there’s a big assignment due to tomorrow and-”

“Step. Away. From the window!” May demanded.

Peter didn’t move.

“Now.”

With a quiet sigh, he finally backed away and sat on the bed. His costume dropped to his feet, still in a wadded ball. May sat next the boy, taking his hand into hers.

“Pete.” she said softly. “What’s going on?”

Peter snatched his hand out of hers and stood right back up, pacing in the middle of the room.

“I don’t want to-”

May cut him off. “I’m just _concerned,_ Peter!”

“Well, _don’t_ be!” he exploded. “I’m fine! I’ve always been fine! Just-”

“Just what?” May said, her eyes moistening as she watched her “son” struggle. “You can tell me. Please.”

Peter shook his head, and grabbed his suit and backpack. “I’m sorry, Aunt May.”

 

He dove out of the window, and disappeared from her sight. Leaping from rooftop to rooftop, he finally felt far away enough to land somewhere close to a source of warmth. Now, he was alone in the cold, without even having a home he felt he could turn to. Now that the media knows that Spider-Man was involved, Peter felt his short lived career was over. Some authority figures might try to track him down. How could he let Aunt May get caught up in this mess he had made?

With nowhere to run, Peter slumped against the heating unit on the rooftop and cried.

"What have I done?!" he sobbed. "I killed him! Oh my God I killed someone!"

"My boy..." an elderly male voice spoke softly from the side of him. "You did nothing wrong."

"Lucius? How did you-"

"I sensed that you were in danger. So I came up here."

For a moment, Peter's tears faded. "That doesn't even make sense. You can fly too?"

Lucius smiled. "Certainly not! There's stairs right over there." He pointed behind him.

"Oh."

"My boy," Lucius placed a calming arm on Peter's shoulder. "You did nothing wrong. Do you understand me?"

"I _killed_. Lucius." Peter said weakly, emotionally drained. "I killed someone."

"Yes!" the old man replied. "Someone who was trying to murder an innocent man. Me."

Peter shook his head. "That doesn't make it right."

"Spider," Lucius knelt to look at the boy dead in the eyes. " Tell me, is it wrong to save lives?"

"What? No, of course not but.."

Lucius interrupted him. "Take Captain America for example. Or Thor, Hawkeye, Iron Man... How many people do you think they've killed to protect us? Surely you don't believe that they've never killed anyone who threatened the peace?"

Peter was at a loss for words.

"They do what must be done, lad. Having a strict moral compass is admirable, certainly. But never forget, that the end justifies the means."

He was right, thought Peter. Mr. Stark hated talking about saving the earth in New York, and it didn't take a genius to know that there were people killed in that battle, in the fight with Ultron, and probably other instances he didn't know about. The people who were in the Avengers weren't just superheroes like him. They were trained soldiers, assassins, gods, and seasoned fighters. Maybe Lucius was right. Still a part of him was fighting. He went too far. That's all there is to it! He'd need to confess.

"Talk to me, boy." said Lucius, his voice still calm as ever as he sat right beside him. "Tell me what's on your mind."


	3. Don't Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter braces himself to face Mr. Stark, as Lucius gives Peter a little advice. Tony finds out about the death and tries to confront Peter, only to arrive to a scene that will be forever imprinted in Tony's memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just the beginning of Peter Parker' s decent into darkness. This story is partly an allegory for my own struggle with depression. So, the descriptions of Peter's symptoms and the story itself are like allegories and symbolisms of my own personal experience with depression, Suicidal Ideations, etc. Anyway, I really hope you like it so far. Thanks.

Peter laid it all out for Lucius to hear. His loneliness, his father figure that he felt saw him as a nuisance. His anger at himself for what he did, and at being powerless to change it. Lucius nodded and chimed in with words of comfort, never leaving the boy's side. He stayed intuitive to Peter's emotions, his pain. Sorrow. Anger. Betrayal.

  
"You said that-" Peter choked through his sobs. "-that he was going to live."  
  
Lucius sighed regretfully, patting the kid's back. "I thought he would. I truly did."  
  
Peter buried his head in his hands. What was he going to do now? His life was over.  
  
"Spider," Lucius continued. "I'm sorry I gave you false hope. I truly did not think you killed him. And I know, that you would never do it on purpose. You are many things. Powerful, kind, heroic. But you are no cold blooded killer. Perhaps you just need some, _guidance._ "  
  
Peter clenched his grip tighter, digging into his mask. Those words just made the pain feel worse. He was being swept away in his growing self-hatred. There was no way out of this. Nothing could reverse what he did. He felt his chest tightening, his breathing getting frantic as he felt the world closing in around him, everything going black. Trapped! He was trapped, and running out of air! There was no escape, nothing except-  
  
"Peter." Karen grabbed his attention. "You have an incoming call from Tony Stark."

“Decline.”

“I’m afraid that’s not-”  
  
She was cut off by a video of none other than Tony Stark himself. To say he looked pissed off would be an understatement. Peter felt his stomach churn. Oh boy. He was in for it now.  
  
"Doing late night studying on a rooftop, kid?!" Tony quipped, sarcastically. "I thought I told you to take a break. Also what did you say? _‘Decline’_?!"  
  
"Mr. Stark! I can explain!"  
  
Lucius listened carefully. Taking mental notes. Now he knew the boy's name, thanks to Karen. This boy, he gathered, must be close to Tony Stark, or perhaps Stark was close to _him_ but the feeling was not mutual. He listened further while murmuring a few words, reaching his hand into a pocket in his gray robe. He sprinkled a tiny bit of sand on the ground while Peter was talking.

 

"Explain?!" Tony shouted. "You wanna explain?! Yes! P _lease_! Explain why you're in costume on a roof, on a school night. Oh, and while you're at it, _explain_ why I just saw a news report of a homicide with _you_ in it!"  
  
"I didn't mean...I was gonna tell you but--"  
  
"But what?" He interrupted. "You forgot to tell me a man died?! That you might have _killed_ him?!"  
  
"Mr. Stark I didn't do it on purpose! You gotta believe me. I would never-"  
  
"No no no! STOP RIGHT THERE!" Tony exploded. "This is where you stop talking, and listen. You're in a lot of trouble, young man! I'm coming down there tomorrow and when I do, you better be there and we're gonna have a talk!"  
  
Peter gulped. His emotions welled up within him. There was no explanation for this. He knew it. His suit was so going to be taken again. His days as Spider-Man were done. But even that didn’t seem to matter as much as the crushing disappointment of failing Mr. Stark. Again. He could never do anything right. That’s why he’s alone. That’s why he’ll always be alone.  
  
"No! I..."  
  
Lucius whispered to the flustered young boy. "Go on, Peter. Tell him the truth."  
  
The boy gasped, his face had fear written all over it.  
  
Lucius encouraged him further. "It's alright, boy. Your secret is safe with me. Now tell him, go on. What did I say to you?"  
  
Tony was not in the mood for patience. "Kid? Did you hear me? Hello!"  
  
"Mr. Stark." Peter said, straightening himself and gathering his courage. What came next sent chills down Tony's spine.  
  
"The end justifies the means."  
  
There was a long silence.  
  
Tony was flabbergasted. He felt as if his heart has been ripped out. No. He didn't just hear that, not from a child. This kid, His kid was better than this. Tony was already jaded from his past. Mistakes, tough decisions, poor decisions, near death experiences, war... Please, not this kid too.  
  
"What?" He couldn't believe it. "What did you just say to me?"  
  
Peter said it again, louder this time. "The end. Justifies. The means! I protected someone. And if that means that the attacker has to die, then…"

He felt a tiny voice egg him on. Forming ideas that channeled from deep inside the dark side of his own mind, ideas he never knew he had.

“...Then that’s what has to be done. And I'll do it.”  
  
Oh hell no. Thought Tony. This was going to be nipped in the bud. Now. Before Peter could answer, Tony cut him off again.

"That's it. I'm coming over there. Now! Don't bother trying to hide. I can still find you. End call!"  
  
Great.  
  
"What happened?" asked Lucius.  
  
"Everything. I’ve lost everything, Lucius. " Peter told him, his hands resting on his knees. "Probably go to jail. Lose my family, my friends. And it's all my fault."  
  
Lucius sighed and pulled out his card, placing it on the kid's backpack. "I don’t foresee this going well for you. So, take these as my gift to you. Should you ever need a mentor, or just someone to listen to, hold this card in your hand, and think of me.”

  
With a reassuring smile, he shook Peter's hand, and tiny sparks transferred themselves from Lucius into Peter's suit, causing it to go a bright blue and white for a few seconds. The sparks flew from his suit, and Peter gave a loud "Whoa!" before a sensation of power flowed through him. Was this some sort of magical upgrade?  
  
"Just in case you need it. Remember, boy. The darkness you face is something that everybody comes across in life. The question is: Will you drown in it’s power, or make _**it**_ submit to _**you**_?" Lucius winked at him, then turned and made his way quickly down the stairs. Peter breathed a heavy sigh, mentally bracing himself for Mr. Stark's wrath. He went too far, and he knew it. What on earth did Lucius mean by that weird stuff anyway? It didn’t matter for long. Tony was coming. He felt his chest tighten again.

 

_I can’t do this. I can’t do this._

 

The world felt as if it were closing in on him, trying to suffocate him with all of its weight squeezing the air out of his lungs. He had to escape. Escape everything. His knew something in his mind was warped. Broken. He knew he was no longer Peter Parker: The happy-go-lucky, funny dork in school. Soon, he wouldn’t even be Spider-Man. He wasn’t the same Peter anymore, he wasn’t Spider-Man anymore. He was becoming a shell, a shadow of himself. Alone with his emptiness and loneliness.

 

“The darkness...” Peter said quietly. “What’s wrong with my head?! I feel so trapped!”

 

A thought dawned on him. A voice not his own, but definitely in his head whispered. _“You’ve failed everyone. You're pushing them all away. You've ruined everything. You must atone with your life.”_

 

“I deserve this.” he said aloud. “I’m so worthless! I screwed it all up!”

 

_Yes. Escape everything. I need this. I deserve this._

 

Peter knew Mr. Stark was tracking him, so he had to act fast. With a quick _THWIP!_ He slingshotted himself high into the air, web-slinging his way to the first place he could think of. The old Avengers Tower, where Peter had foolishly decided to try and be a hero before, where he dreamed in his earlier days of joining the ranks of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, and where he would now let that dream die. As he prepared to scale the building, he heard the faint sound of thrusters closing in.

 

_He’s coming. He’ll be too late. Please be too late._

 

Peter leapt high and crawled up the walls of the complex as fast as he could. Within seconds he had reached the top, and stood at the very edge. He couldn’t help but smile, seeing his release in the form of the concrete below. He didn't even notice Tony landing some distance behind him. 

 

“Peter!” Tony called out while landing. “Turn around, it’s just you and me. Over here. Now. Let’s go.”

 

The kid said nothing. His mind made up, Peter simply uttered “I can’t fight this” with a weak, broken, voice choked with tears. What Tony didn’t realize was that Peter was communicating with his own darkness that had taken residence within the kid’s mind. It had spread into his thoughts. Now it was time to spread into his words.

 

“This darkness.” Peter silently whispered. “I need to do this. I need everything to stop. I-I need to fall.”

That last sentence sent chills down Tony’s Spine.

Tony suddenly realized what he was dealing with, and it hit him like a stab in the gut. He didn’t want to believe that his kid was standing at the edge of a tower, about to try ending his young life. He didn’t want to face any of this. Peter was many things. Happy, bubbly, annoying, kind, but suicidal? No. Not him. Please, not him. Peter was supposed to be _better_ than this. Better than Tony ever was.

 "Kid?"

 _Where did I go wrong?_ Thought Tony. _Where did I screw up so bad, that my kid feels like suicide is all that’s left? What about May? Does she even know?_

 

“Kid, don’t. Please.” He begged, forcing back the heartbreak welling up in him. “Please come down. Talk to me!”

 

He stepped, ever so cautiously, closer to Peter, still begging him to step down. Peter didn’t budge.

 

“Mr. Stark.” He said.

 

“Yes, Pete?”

 

“I’ve been thinking.”

 

Tony kept advancing. His eyes fixed on Peter.

 

“Yeah kid?”

 

“ _Keep him talking, Tony. Keep him talking.”_ Stark repeated in his head, still inching closer to the boy.

 

“I’m not strong enough to fight it.”

 

Peter wasn’t sure he had said that aloud or in his head. But it was true either way. The darkness, with it’s sweet release in death was calling him by name. Peter felt shame, twisted with fear and regret. He couldn’t move his legs. He couldn’t jump. He felt like such a coward, being frozen in place like that.

 

“I have to jump... I have to fall.” Peter broke down, his knees buckling.

 

Tony closed in quickly, reaching both arms around the kid and pulling him from the edge, safe at last. The next thing he saw was Peter, ripping his mask off and gasping desperately for air, his body curling in a ball around Tony’s arm. It broke his heart to hear the kid that he was so proud of whispering to himself thoughts of “the darkness” and “I need to be free. I deserve this.”

 

“Kid.” He sighed. “Oh, kid. You won't fall. I won't let you fall.”

 

Tony was so relieved to have found Peter in time. He hadn't fallen. Had he?


	4. Distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Depression does many things. In my experience, it can warp our minds, change what we see, and what we hear and think. It warps our reality. But it also affects the people we love the most, despite our best intentions. For me, the anger grows to be too much, and I lash out. Often to the people I love the most. Please let me know what you think of the story so far. But most importantly, Stay safe all you lot. For real. Stay safe.

Peter woke up in his bedroom. He couldn’t remember exactly what happened the night before, but he knew that it involved Mr. Stark. Peter tried to think, looking around his room for any clues. He was still in his costume, though he felt his body ache all over. He also noticed several areas that were tender to touch. That was odd. He didn’t remember getting into a fight.

  
“Peter.” A woman’s voice called out from Peter’s bedroom door. “I have breakfast! Are you awake?”

  
He didn’t know what to say. Should he ask Aunt May what happened? How did he even end up back home? Does she know?

“Peter, honey. “I’m going to come in and check on you.”

Aunt May slowly opened the door. Peter was laying on his bed, still in his Spider-Man suit, minus the mask. That thing was laying on top of his keyboard. Tony had dropped him off hours ago, telling her what was going on, and what had happened that night. She was, of course, terrified by these events. As Tony explained to her, May cried many times. She shed her tears not only out of shock, but more so out of heartbreak.

“Peter had already gone through so much.” she said to Tony as he laid Peter’s unconscious body onto his bed. “I never thought...I should have thought...”

But Tony had nothing to say in response. His expression was grave for the entire time. Other than telling her what happened, Tony didn’t say much else, but there was one thing in particular that stuck with Aunt May the most. The last thing Tony had said to her was “I wasn’t prepared, May. I just wasn't prepared.” Then he suited up into his Iron Man armor and flew away into the night sky, his thrusters melting the snow on the porch on his way out. May could tell that he was at least as worried for Peter as she was. It was getting close to Christmas, and she feared that she might not have Pete there with her this year if things kept going the way they were.

Her memory of seeing Peter in his room, wearing that damn costume, always flashed before her eyes when he came home late. After Peter came clean about his superhero life, May nearly kicked Tony Stark’s billionaire ass for encouraging him to continue fighting crime, but Tony had reassured her, while dodging various kitchenware, that he was watching over Peter, and had been the one to save him on the Ferry. Although she still was not a fan of her boy running around the streets as a vigilante, she felt at least secure that he was being looked after and gave permission for Spider-Man to continue. Tony even paid for the broken plates that May threw at him.

  
“Fine, He can be Spider-Man. I can't stop him anyway, but I swear to God, Mr. Stark.” she said to him that day. “If anything happens to my Peter, I will hold you responsible. And there will be no tower or shiny metal suit that will save you from me. Do you understand?”

His bored expression never changed. If Tony had even felt anything after what May had said, he sure as hell wasn’t showing it. Instead, he just blinked at her and said, “Yep. Good talk. Bye.” For God’s sake, thought May, didn’t Tony even care about what kind of world he had just thrust this child into, or was he just a pawn? She knew he never came by to just visit them, in fact he never came at all...until this morning.

“Peter?” she said again, from the other side of the door.

“Come in.” Peter said, weakly.

Aunt May stepped inside, carrying a plate of bacon and eggs for him. She set the plate by his keyboard, and softly held Peter’s hand. She looked him straight in the eye and asked if he remembered anything. He shook his head. May was worried, yet relieved that Peter had forgotten. Maybe if he wouldn’t remember what happened with him and Tony, it would be one less thing for him to stress about.

“Your breakfast is right over there, honey.” she said casually.

Peter managed to sit up. “What happened?”

“We’ll talk about that later. For now, I’m just glad you’re in one piece. Now eat you breakfast before I have to microwave it again.”

May didn’t want to risk overloading Peter so soon after the incident last night, so she wanted to wait until he had fully calmed down and relaxed a little to ease his nerves. She went back down stairs in order to give him some space, thinking this was the best decision. It didn’t occur to her that Peter would try to escape. Then again, she realized she had no idea how to deal with a suicidal teenager. She had always hoped that, somehow he would be spared the angsty stage. Was it more than just a stage, she wondered. Maybe “Spider-Man” had been too much for him. That wouldn’t have surprised her, especially with the recent news that Spider-Man might have actually had something to do with a death in Queens. She needed to be there for him, and let him know it. Besides, she would be back in a few minutes.

Meanwhile, in his room, Peter felt like the walls were starting to close in. He didn’t even know why. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“What happened?” he asked himself, springing to his feet and grabbing his mask. “I remember I...”

  
Some blurred memories began rushing back to him. He remembered curling into a ball, sobbing uncontrollably. Tony had wrapped him tightly in his metal arms, telling him that it was going to be okay. Peter welcomed the embrace, and for that moment he felt peace as he watched some light snowflakes begin to fall.  He tried kicking and elbowing the metal around him to squirm away, but Tony held on tighter, repeating the kid's name and begging him to stop. Then he faded away, and woke up back in his room. He felt so ashamed. He needed to die. It was what he deserved. He’d just continue to burden people with his existence. Not only had he failed his escape from this world, but even worse was that now Aunt May and Tony knew about it. They would probably watch his every move, judging him. They would suffocate him. He’d be trapped. Like a rat in a cage. There was no escape, save for the window. After grabbing Lucius's card and hiding it in his boot, he sneaked out. 

* * *

 

Not long after he took to the skies, Peter caught a robbery in progress. He foiled it easily, and even added a wisecrack or two. The robber was armed with a combat knife, which Peter confiscated for his own personal reasons. Karen had inquired about it, but Peter blew her off. He started to leap into the air and shoot out a web, when Karen asked him another question.

“How are you feeling, Peter?” she asked, keeping her tone normal to throw off any suspicion.

“I’m doing alright, Karen.” he said, giving the robber an extra kick in the gut while he was already on the ground. “Even better now that I’m out here.”

Peter knew not to open up too much to Karen right now. He had already worked out a plan to disable his tracking on his suit again, once he had the chance. He needed to disappear, so that Mr. Stark would never be annoyed by him, pissed off at him, disappointed in him ever again. The only thing that scared him right now was Aunt May. What would she do without him there? A part of him begin to find strength. She still loved him, didn’t she? Two voices in his head were competing.

_Go back, Peter. She loves you._

_Run. You’ve betrayed her. She’ll never look at you the same way again._

_May loves you._

_You’ll have to tell her what you did, and then what would she think?_

The voices were overpowering, arguing with each other in his own mind. He was going crazy. That had to be it. It wasn’t enough to be worthless, to be a failure. He was a lunatic too. Peter threw his hands to the side of his head, screaming in agony.

_Make it stop make it stop make it stop!_

"You appear to be in distress." said Karen.

The voices were getting louder, and they never stopped arguing! Peter called aloud for the voices to stop, but they didn't. Peter shot a string of web from his wrists, the web fluid easily catching the side of a building. He wasted no time is web swinging away and continue patrolling his beat for the day.

"I am, Karen." Peter's voice was hoarse. He must have screamed louder than he realized. "But it doesn't matter anymore."

"You know, Peter." Karen softly began. "May loves you."

_This is **not** what I need to hear right now._

Peter just wanted to not think about it. Not think about anything.

_Shut up, Karen. You're making it worse._

 

* * *

  
It didn't take too long for Spider-Man to find another robbery to foil. It was in an alley, where a man armed with a gun had pinned a young woman to the wall with one arm. In the other, he held his pistol to the woman's head.

"Your money! Now!" he yelled.

The young woman cried and started to empty the contents of her purse.

"Oh no you don't." a young voice said from above.

Before the man could even turn around, Peter had rushed in from above his head, snatching his gun with a shot of webbing. With the gun in hand, Peter emptied the bullets and crushed the weapon. The robber then attempted to flee in a panic, but Peter had other plans. He fired a string of webbing from each wrist, and caught the man's ankles.

"Hurry! Go!" Peter yelled at the woman.

The woman immediately ran in tears, scared for her life. With her out of the way, Peter was free to focus on this criminal in front of him. He had a gun. He could've killed someone! Peter yanked his arms, tripping the man face first into the snow-covered gravel. He ignored the man's yells as he dragged him closer, the robber's face scraping the cold ground. Peter grabbed the man by back of the jacket, and slammed him to the wall. The man shrieked in terror and pain. Peter could hear the collarbone snap, but he was too deep in his own world to care.  It was because of people like this scum that his Uncle Ben wasn't here with him anymore. That he had no father figure, much less a father. And who knows? This man might have already killed, and created an orphan already. The thought made Peter's blood boil. Murderer. This man could be a future murderer.

_The end justifies the means. The end justifies the means. He deserves it. He'll just try again if I don't-_

"I'll kill you! " the man shouted at Peter, grabbing a knife from inside his jacket. Peter gave him time to reach for it, grinning inside his mask.

"Take your best shot." He said smugly.

Peter ignored his Spider-Sense, and growled in pain as the man's blade pierced below his left rib cage. A chuckle escaped Peter's throat, and his smile grew wider.

_Yes. I deserve this. But you, you deserve worse._

Letting out a roar of pure rage, Peter grabbed the attacker's arms with his own, and crushed them with ease. The man howled in pain. That just made him smile more.

  
_Punish him. He needs punishment. I need punishment. I deserve worse than this. Why am I doing this? Why am I so messed up? This isn't me..._

_Yes. It is now._

"Was that really necessary?" asked Karen.

Peter ignored her, then gripped the robber's throat, and raised him into the air.

"That's enough, Spider-Man!" Called Mr. Stark, flying in.  "Put him down and web him up. The cops will get here a couple minutes."

Tony landed close beside the kid, keeping his helmet on so that nobody would see his concern for Peter, or the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. Peter cursed loudly and threw the man into the street, webbing him to a light post.

"Peter. Please. Let's go back to my place, I'll patch you up." Tony said. He wasn't expecting for the kid to flinch away.

"Don't touch me!" cried Peter, leaping to another roof. Tony flew up and grabbed the kid in mid air.

"You need to settle down." Tony raised his voice, still not releasing his grip. With Peter still wriggling to get free, swinging his arms wildly, Tony flew to the closest rooftop he could find, knowing that the kid could break free at any moment. Peter was fighting hard, trying to pry at his metal fingers in hopes of getting Tony to let go. To Peter's surprise, Mr. Stark did let go, after landing on a rooftop close to his apartment.

"I'm not going to take your suit, kid. If that's what you're worried about."

Peter winced in pain, holding his lower rib cage. "But I messed up so bad, Mr. Stark. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve anything."

Tony got close to the kid, removed his helmet and sprayed the wound with a healing foam from his gauntlet.  "Kid, we really need to talk."

"About what?!"

Tony blinked in disbelief. "You don't remember?"

"I remember wanting to die." said Peter, his voice burning with anger. "But you didn't let me! I deserved it! I need this! I need to die! And you denied me that!"

"Kid." Said Tony, still keep himself within grabbing distance. "Tell me why. Why did you try to jump? Why would you do something so **_stupid_**?!"

 

Peter sighed underneath his mask. Might as well get this talk over with.

"Because I'm guilty." he said. "I screwed everything up. I failed May, I failed Ned, and I failed you. I'm worthless, and with all the trouble I cause you and everyone else, I'm better off dead than alive."

Tony shook his head. "No, no. Peter, listen to me. You need to get help for this. This isn't you..."

Mr. Stark was talking to him, a deadly serious tone in his voice. Peter tried to listen, especially when words like "help", "depression" and "therapy" were dropped, but he heard the darkness drowning him out. Tony's voice faded away, and he heard that familiar yet foreign voice speak once more.

_He's lying.  He's angry. He hates you._

Stark continued talking, unaware that Peter wasn't understanding a damn thing.

_Therapy...Like you're crazy. It's bad enough you're broken, now everyone would know. They won't treat you the same way ever again._

"No." whispered Peter. He grabbed his ears and shook his head violently, stepping backwards. Tony tried to grab him, but he missed. "Get out of my head!!!"

"Talk to me, Peter!" Tony pleaded. "Focus! Focus on me, kid. Come on."

But Peter only kept backpedaling, accidentally getting closer to the edge. Tony screamed something, but he couldn't hear what. All he heard was the darkness, behind his mask and inside his head.

_You see? He's scared of you. You ruined your friendship. You ruin everything._

His chest tightened again, and he felt his breathing increasing.

"No." He gasped for air.

 

He saw Tony prepare to dash for him, to grab him and stop him from doing the inevitable. Peter didn't even realize how close to the edge he was, and felt ashamed that Tony assumed he was going to jump without even hearing him out. It's true, he realized. They'd never look at him the same way ever again. As Tony reached for the kid,Peter thrust his own arms forward to stop him. Suddenly, his arms turned blue and began to glow. Tony skidded to a halt, his eyes widened in surprise and confusion. The light grew brighter, and tiny sparks flew out of the kid's hands all the way to the elbows.

It happened in one second. The bolt fired away from Peter's hands, and exploded right in center of Tony's chest armor. The force of the bolt knocked him back a few steps, but it was the look on Tony's face that haunted Peter. He looked so confused. So betrayed as he lost his balance and fell on his back with his eyes wide open.

"Why?" Peter imagined him saying. "Why did you shoot me?"

But Tony didn't say anything. He didn't even move.

"Mr. Stark!" Peter screamed. "Speak to me! Please! Karen, call for help!"

Peter saw that parts of Tony's chest armor were completely damaged. He could smell the electrical burns around the chest and shoulders. How could he have done this? Literally?

"Lucius." Peter remembered the "upgrade" that the old man gave him. "Lucius did this. He made this all happen!"

Peter held Tony close. Help wasn't here. Where was it? It had already been five seconds!  
   
_Tony can't die. Mr. Stark can't die. I killed him. I killed him. I killed him I killed again...._  
   
Peter grabbed the card that he hid in his boot earlier and cried out, panicked. "Lucius!"

Tony had the wind knocked out of him, but kept trying to grab Peter to let him know he was alright. His limbs refused to budge. He could only watch helplessly as a dark blue and black portal opened in front of him and Peter, and a white haired man in a grey robe stepped out of the dark void in the center.

"Peter!" Lucius feigned shock. "What have you done?!"  
   
He ran urgently toward the injured man in metal armor, being embraced by a sobbing Spider-Man.

"I didn't mean to do it! I accidentally cast some kind of spell!"

Lucius crouched down at Tony's immobile and damaged body, shooing Peter out of his way. Murmuring some strange incantations, he made Tony's armor fall off and pretended to check for a pulse. He whispered some more foreign words while placing his hand on Tony's chest.  "That spell was only to be used as a last resort, boy." Lucius spat angrily.  "Not to be wasted on petty criminals, and certainly not on crime fighting billionaires! It was a lightning bolt!"

 

Peter heard the message loud and clear. This was all his own fault.

 

Tony kept struggling to talk and move, but it was all in vain. FRIDAY was unresponsive as well. If there was one thing he wanted right now, it was to get this creep's hands off of his chest, and about 100 yards from Peter. Suddenly, Tony felt a surge of pain coming from the man's fingers, into his heart. He felt as if this man were someone draining the life out of him. Tony felt his limbs growing cold, his eyes were getting heavier.

 _"Peter."_ he said internally, as the cold and blackness closed in around him. _"Underoos..."_

"He's dead." said Lucius. "You killed him."

"Oh God. Mr. Stark, no! " Peter cried out, wrapping his arms around Tony, who had closed his eyes for the last time. "Mr.Stark! I'm so sorry!"

 

" _No, kid. **I'm** sorry."_

 

Peter buried his head in Tony's shoulder, crying into him and begging him not to go. He repeated "I'm sorry I killed you." over and over. His ramblings were interrupted by a flash of red, blue and white lights, with sirens blaring and heading his way. Gathering himself together, the boy put his mask back on turned to the only person he had left in this messed up world.

"Lucius, can you levitate me down? So I can carry my..." he swallowed the lump in his throat, "Mr. Stark?"

The old man nodded solemnly, and reached into his bag once more. Peter watched in fascination as this white haired wizard sprinkled sand in a circular motion, and dropped a leather string tied in a loop. Peter felt his feet leave the ground and gravity's hold on himself slipping. As Peter was lowered over the side of the building and down to the paramedics below, he tried listening for a heartbeat, but his senses were already overloaded. The flashing lights of the emergency vehicle and the police cars, the voices of spectators forming their own theories on what happened, while a news crew set up nearby. Soon the police arrived to join the party. All eyes were on Peter as he landed softly to the pavement, and handed his father's body over to the stretcher. The paramedics asked him a series of questions about his health, medications, symptoms, etc. All Peter could tell them was that a bolt of electricity had struck him. He didn't even know the wattage. Then, the news anchors had finished setting themselves up, pointing their mics at him and interrogating him while the police drew their guns.

"I can't think." Peter gasped, trying to keep himself together through it all, his eyes still focused on Tony being loaded into the ambulance. "I can't feel, I don't know, I don't know what to do. He's gone. He's gone."

Lucius floated down behind the grieving young boy. He could feel the kid's darker emotions: Anger, Self-hatred, fear, and grief. Perhaps now the boy would be broken enough to be useful.

"Do you want to run away, Spider?" he asked quietly into the kid's ear. "Do you want to be free?"

The reporters were still throwing questions at him.

"Is Tony Stark dead?"

"Did you kill him? Why did you do it?"

"What do you have to say about the last person you killed?"

"Spider-Man, did you kill Tony Stark?"

Peter nodded, both at Lucius, and at all of the eyes that were fixed upon him.

Suddenly a flash of light startled the crowd, followed by a rapid firing of blinding light. It felt as if someone lit a sparkler in front of his face. Even with his eyes tightly shut, Peter still saw the white flashes through his eyelids. Lucius used the distraction to his advantage, and conjured a dagger of pure magic. Then, he proceeded to do what he had been waiting for this whole time. He stabbed the kid in the back, and as Peter recoiled in anguish, they both were covered by a black smoke and disappeared.  
   
Meanwhile in a small apartment in Queens, a frightened woman sat speechless in her kitchen, tears streaming down her face. Aunt May watched the horror unfold on live television, her hands cupped her mouth in disbelief.


	5. Death

The last thing Peter remembered was facing a mob of reporters and cops, his senses overwhelmed by the guilt of what he had just done, and the combination of the flashing lights in front of him. Then there was Lucius behind him, a whisper, and then pain. Finally, the darkness. Although Peter shrieked in pain as Lucius stabbed him from behind, he was secretly hoping the knife would just kill him. There was no reason to live, not after all the things he had done. Unfortunately for the kid who just committed patricide, he felt his senses slowly returning to him. Whatever type of slab or table he was laying on, it was cold as stone. In fact, it probably was stone. He heard whispers of other languages he was unfamiliar with, suggesting that he was definitely not left alone. Taking a moment to ground himself, Peter slowly opened his eyes.

The room around him was small, dark, and made of stone and concrete. It was very dimly lit, but even the light was unusual. Three tiny orbs of light floated around in the air beside him, while a few others lit the rest of the room, where he could see two doors on opposite sides of the walls. It was more of that magic Lucius could do. It had to be. Lucius. Peter gritted his teeth when that devil’s name popped into his head. This was all _his_ fault. If only Peter had been honest with Mr. Stark from the beginning! His anguish was only made worse by the reminder that Mr. Stark was gone. There was nobody left for him to turn to. Nobody except-

“Ah, you’re awake, my boy.” said a grinning Lucius, emerging from a shadow in the corner. “Good, Peter. Can you stand?”

Peter slid off of the stone he was laid on, and dropped down to the floor, landing on his feet with ease. He found that the surface he was laying on was some type of table of solid stone that was up to his chest in height. Strange letters and characters were engraved all around the edges, glowing in an ominous blue light. Perhaps it was an altar? He wasn’t entirely sure, nor did he really care. The walls were gray, the ceiling was gray, the ground was gray! Why? Why was everything so damn gray?! Gray and cold just like everything else around him, just like himself?! The look on Tony’s face would never leave his memory. How would he ever face Aunt May again? Hell, how could he face _anyone_ again? Peter ripped off his mask, trying to breathe as he felt his panic rising from within his chest. He turned his eyes toward the old man calling his name. A combination of anger and grief suddenly seized the kid, and he snatched Lucius’s robes with both of his hands, pulling him closer.

“You did this!” Peter shouted in his face, and lifted the old wizard into the air with ease. “You gave me the spell that killed Mr. Stark! You stabbed me! You were behind everything!”

Lucius seemed too frightened to respond. Peter slammed the old man into the nearest wall, ignoring his protesting screams. His anger burned inside him like a furnace, and with every sound Lucius made, it only fed the fire. “Ever since your magical ass stepped into my life, I’ve killed two people and lost everyone! _Everyone!_ Give me a reason why I shouldn’t just kill _you_ too.”

Lucius gently whispered. “Because I’m your only chance at having a life again.”

Peter laughed with a broken voice, feeling himself mentally slipping. Gone. Everything gone. His life as Peter Parker was over. And he hadn’t even reached his senior year of high school. His life as a Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man was equally over. Where would he go? What would he do? Perhaps he could still be a superhero, and just changed his costume and name. Yes, that didn’t sound too bad. But where would he live?

“My boy, listen to me!” Lucius pleaded. “I stabbed you so that the media would believe you were dead. I stabbed you because your life as the Spider-Man was dead anyway, so I decided to make myself the villain. To make people think I killed you! That way, you can start life anew. I did this to save you, my boy. To save you, not hurt you!”

Peter lowered the old wizard to the ground, and slowly released his grip as he tried to figure out what he was up to now. Lucius didn’t even need to use his magical senses to tell that there was a struggle going on inside the boy’s mind. He knew that Peter was conflicted about him, and that Tony Stark had tried to mold the kid into something he should never, and could never, have been: perfect. While Peter was still lost in his own thoughts, Lucius took the time to frame his next words carefully. Peter was certainly a strong kid, mentally and physically. But he could still be so much more. He just needed to break.

“Why do you care?” the boy asked, his voice bitter with anger. “You don’t even know me. Why do you care so much?”

 

Before answering, Lucius focused his own thoughts on calling out mentally to the magic present in the environment around them, in every living thing, in the air, in himself and certainly in Peter. Mentally establishing this connection and tapping into it, he could easily tap himself into the boy’s emotions. He felt the roller coaster of ups and downs that Peter had been going through since they first met. He experienced Peter’s heartache at the two murders he had unwillingly committed, the shame and guilt of letting down everyone he ever had left in his life. Most interesting of all to Lucius, was that he felt Peter’s pain at never being worthy to be a “son” to a man he wanted to call “father”. Armed with this knowledge, Lucius broke his silence.

“Because I could tell from the start that there was something special about you, Peter.” He said. “Your abilities, your heart. You have a lot of potential, but you lack guidance from someone who actually understands you. Someone like me.”

Lucius noticed Peter’s temper flare up for a split second before calming himself back down. The last sentence was a small stab at Stark’s mentoring skills, and given recent events, it definitely struck a cord with Peter.

“I know one shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” said Lucius, keeping his voice calm in order to ease the tension. “-but tell me, Peter. Other than saving your sorry hide during that ferry incident, when did Stark ever come to save you?”

Peter didn’t answer. He just stared at him, with fire in his eyes.

Lucius continued,. “Did Stark ever come to see you? Not as Iron Man, but as just Tony? Did he ever come by for lunch, or even try to get to know you?”

He paused, pretending that the kid would say something. Peter swallowed hard, trying not to shed tears.

“I thought not.” The old man, gave a quick cynical chuckle. “It’s so unfair, isn’t it? To have whores and corporate big wigs visit Tony on a regular basis, and you, his _protege,_ are left in the shadows.”

“It’s not like that!” Peter finally lashed out. “He’s a businessman! He needs to meet with all those people, and he doesn’t have whores all over him! He’s not that type of guy!”

 

“He _was a_ businessman, boy. _Was.”_ Lucius corrected him politely. “And you didn’t know him before he was Iron Man, now did you?”

“His past doesn’t matter!” shouted Peter. “He changed after being kidnapped in Afghanistan years ago! I read about it! What he did before then doesn’t matter! He won’t be remembered for that! The world will remember him as Iron Man.”

Lucius laughed at Peter, not caring that the boy could easily crush him if he chose to.

“The past doesn’t matter? That’s cute. Okay then, Peter. Since the past doesn’t matter, go right back out on the streets as Spider-Man. Go on, I’ll give you time. Tell me then, how the past doesn’t matter!”

“Shut up!” Peter yelled, slamming his fists hard enough into the stone surface, sending pieces of rock flying in all directions. The impact shot tremors down the stone table-like structure, causing it to split down the middle with a loud crack. “Mr. Stark was a good man! He was a hero! He saved lives and fought with the best heroes in the world! If I could even be _half_ the person he was-”

“But you’re not!” Lucius cut him off impatiently. Now was the time to stop the nice guy act, and turn up the verbal aggression. Just a little bit more, he thought to himself, and this stubborn little shit would finally break. He was so close to the edge of falling to the darkness within him, he just needed a little bit more of a push. “You’re not half the person your precious ‘Mr. Stark’ was! You’re not even a quarter of the man he was!”

Peter’s watery eyes widened in shock. There was venom in the old man’s voice; his words were teeming with a bitter and sinister vibe that the kid had never felt from Lucius before.

“No, Peter.” the old man smiled. “You’re not even close to Stark’s expectations of you. Whatever false image of himself he saw in you was just a sham. It was never about you. It was about _him_. It was about him using you to his advantage, and molding you into what _he_ wanted you to be: a perfect version of himself. A sort of twisted attempt at redemption for all the pain he had caused in his selfish, narcissistic life! That’s why he was never there for you, I sense it. I feel your abandonment, boy. You’re remembering all the times he failed you, aren’t you?”

Peter nodded slowly, his mind falling blank as he wanted to not think about anything anymore.

“Don’t you see? I _understand_ you.”

 

Lucius could see the effect he was having on Peter, who seemed taken aback by the sudden change of demeanor. Peter was fighting a war within his own mind, both sides of himself not willing to stop until one side destroys the other. His emotions were flaring in all directions, waves of self-hatred, grief, anger, despair all distorting his ability to think clearly. This was his chance, thought Lucius. He had to continue his mental assault while the boy was still vulnerable.

All tension in Peter’s muscles melted away, and his shoulders dropped. He felt all of his anger leave his body, and found himself gazing into nothingness. It was as if reality finally dropped all of its ugly weight onto his shoulders, and trapped him beneath its crushing weight.

“I’m nothing.” he said quietly, blinking away a small tear. “I’m really, actually just nothing.”

 

It worked. The boy was finally broken. Lucius fought the urge to smile at his victory. He had to act quick if his victory were to be complete, and his real vision could begin. This boy would be the key, a broken sword that needed to be reforged before becoming deadly once again.

“‘ _Spider-Man’_ is nothing.” he said with assertion. “He is dead. But you, Peter, you are more than nothing. Like I said, you are not a quarter of the man Tony Stark was, but you have the potential to become more than he would have ever been. But you must choose, boy, because time is running out. It’s all over the news that the police are already on the hunt for your alter ego, still unwilling to believe he’s truly dead. And just now an Amber Alert was issued for a missing ‘Peter Parker’. What will you do? Let the police catch you as Peter Parker, while your identity remains a secret forever? Or do your parents already know?”

“My aunt.” said Peter. “I live with my aunt.”

“Oh Good.” Lucius’s tone was dripping with sarcasm. “If you go home, the police can question the both of you, while your Aunt tries not to tell the cops that she’s housing a murderer. I’m sure she won’t crack or anything and tell them you’re Spider-Man.”

“She wouldn’t!”

“Do you really want to risk it? Would you, a good and upstanding young man, put your Aunt in such a place?”

“No.” Peter’s expression was downcast. “No, I wouldn’t. But then, what do I do? I don’t know what to do.”

Lucius smiled at him, and spoke in a low menacing tone. “Give in to the darkness, Peter. I know you’re fighting it. Give in, and I will show you how to use its power for good. But you must tell me, from your own lips, that ‘Spider-Man and ‘Peter Parker’ are dead.”

This was all too much for Peter to take in at once, and he fell to his knees. His mind was still at war.

 

_You’re doomed. There’s no way out of this one._

 

_You should have jumped._

 

_It’s not your fault. You didn’t know._

 

_This is all your fault._

 

_There’s no way out._

 

_There’s still hope._

 

“ _No.”_ Peter thought. “ _There’s no hope. Not anymore.”_

 

“Do you object to this?” Lucius looked down him.

 

“No.” he said, his voice breaking. “I don’t.”

 

“Then say it.”

Peter felt his whole body shake, his spider sense going crazy and tingling non stop. It was if his body were screaming for him not to do this, but his mind said otherwise. He needed to do this. He needed to “kill” himself, perhaps even physically. There was no choice.

 

_Don’t do it._

 

_Do it._

 

_There’s no other way to protect the only people you have left._

 

_There’s always a way._

 

_Do you want to risk killing them on accident too?_

 

_Please don’t do this._

 

“Spider-Man and Peter Parker are dead.” Peter forced himself to sound assertive. This was it. He had made his decision, and there was no turning back. He needed to sound confident. He needed to _be_ confident.

“Are they dead?” Lucius prodded him. “Who are you then?”

Peter stood up, his eyes no longer wet with tears. Any look of sadness was erased from his face, replaced by an almost stoic expression.

“Spider-Man and Peter Parker are dead. And my new self will begin now.”

 

Lucius let out a triumphant and loud laughter. The doors on each side of the room swung open, and a handful of other robed people of various ages encircled them. Peter’s expression never changed. He simply watched as his new “father” raised his hands into the air, beginning some sort of chant. He watched the other mages joined in, noticing their ages. Some of them were adults, but many of them still looked his own age. He could have sworn that one of them was even in his class. As the chanting continued, Peter felt a quick rush of adrenaline surge through his body, making him feel as if he could take on the world. What were they doing?

“We are giving you our blessing, boy.” said Lucius, placing his arms on Peter’s shoulders. “For you to grow in power, for your enemies to tremble before you, and for you to serve the dark arts well.”

Peter was confused. “The dark arts of what?” He asked.

“Magic. Now come. There is much for you to learn. Your new life begins now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos! Please feel free to leave me comments to let me know what you guys think about the story so far. I'm open to criticism. Sorry if I suck. I'm trying to get better. This I my first story, so I suppose sucking at something is the first step towards being sorta good at something?


	6. A New Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's new life begins, and we are taken into the birth of his new identity and way of life. But first, Lucius has some words for him.

The first thing Lucius did was force the kid to take off his old costume and hand it over to a towering man who wore a shining metal plate over his chest. Peter felt so cold, naked and vulnerable around these new faces. He knew nothing about them, their lives or even their names and yet he resigned himself to his fate. These mages would be his family, his friends, his life from now on. The armored mage walked away, carrying all that remained of “Spider-Man”. The suit and mask disappeared from his sight as the other mages closed the gap, and another one of them presented Peter with pair of brand new clothes. Peter noticed that this mage looked rather frail, not at all like the last one who took his suit. This was a tiny golden blonde haired young man, probably around his age, and yet he is also involved in this insane cult, or whatever this was. He had to admit to himself that he had no idea what was going on, or what he had just gotten himself into.

“These are for you, Peter.” the young mage said to him with kindness. “Welcome to the family.”

Peter took a moment to look at the gift that was just handed to him: A black leather jacket, a white long sleeved shirt with a cool looking pentagram on it, brand new dark jeans, and a pair of black boots with buckles.

 

_Oh dear God, I’ll look like I belong in the Breakfast Club._

 

It was so out of his element, but he was at least going to be thankful to not be in his boxers anymore. With a nod of gratitude and a quick “Thanks.” He wasted no time in getting dressed. The mages then dispersed, returning to the other rooms, leaving only Lucius and Peter.

“Well, boy?” Lucius asked. “What do you think?”

Peter wasn’t quite sure what to say. Honestly, he felt very creeped out, but he was too afraid to tell Lucius that. Gazing down at the symbol on his shirt, he started tracing his finger around the large black circle in the center of the chest. In the middle of the circle was a blood red pentagram, tilted sideways.

“What is this?” he asked the wizard. “Don’t tell me it’s just an edgy t-shirt design.”

“This is an ancient symbol of our deity.” Lucius answered. “Come, I will show you everything.”

Lucius walked Peter into the left doorway, and motioned for him to enter first. Peter stepped through cautiously, and found himself amazed at the sight before him. The room was huge! There were dozens of mages, their magic showering from their hands in various colors. The tiny specks of light floated around freely and in great numbers, to keep the area brightly lit. The floor was covered by a large red and gold carpet, beautifully detailed and with designs swirling in the middle of the redness, and all around the edges. Judging from the types of spells Peter was seeing, such as ice spikes and tiny fire balls, he guessed that this was a room for destructive magic. A small fireball flew through the air and was heading straight for Lucius. In annoyance, he snatched the ball with his hand and with a whisper he extinguished it into nothingness.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry, Arch-Mage!” a young voice cried out in panic. “I was trying to combine it with my telekinesis spell but I couldn’t control it!”

In front of them stood the same blonde from earlier. He gasped in fear and looked at them as if they were about to kill him.

“Watch where you’re shooting, Adrian!” Lucius yelled. “I told you once already to consult your master regarding that issue! But here’s some advice: your objective is to burn _their_ bodies not ours!”

“Y-yes Master!” Adrian stammered before bowing apologetically. “Sorry Master!”

Peter started at Lucius’s sizzling hand in awe. There was not a single burn on him. That was so cool, thought Peter.

_This is power. This is my life now. This is part of my new self. Peter is dead. He has to be. I’ll prove it!_

“How did you do that?” Peter asked, his eyes suddenly beaming with enthusiasm. “Will you teach me how to do that? All that stuff with fire, light and levitation. Show me that! Even the lightning!”

Lucius smiled at him. “Of course, boy. But first, come with me.”

 

Peter was led down more halls and stairs that were ascending, feeling a chill down his spine. Something about this building was familiar, even though he didn’t recognize the interior at all. Finally, Lucius brought him to the roof, where he had Peter look upon New York City. “Wait a minute.” Instantly Peter felt his chest being crushed, and he screamed in fear. He saw Mr. Toomes leaning smugly against a table, his winged exo-suit flying through the support beams before attaching to him.

“This place is..” Peter said through his increasing gasps for air. “This is where Toomes...”

He couldn’t finish. “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.” he said repeatedly. Lucius scowled at the boy and his pathetic panicking. So weak, he thought. A quick shock ought to do it.

“For the love of God, boy! Focus!”

A quick bolt of electricity escaped his finger, which pointed directly at Peter. The shock startled the kid, but it only made him jump high into the air. Peter landed back on his feet, and exclaimed in fear, “This is where I was buried! Lucius you don’t understand. I was buried here when I tried to stop a guy from dealing illegal weapons! Oh my God, how did you rebuild it?! Why did you rebuild it?! Don’t you know what happened here?!”

His rambling increased as he explained everything that he had gone through against this “Adrian Toomes” person. Lucius listened a bit, but quickly grew tired of hearing him whine about what he had gone through.

“-And then the plane crashed and we fought but he didn’t kill me. Then there was an explosion and-”

“Enough!” Lucius snapped. “Boy, from now on your name shall no longer be ‘Peter’! That name bears too much attachment to these, panic episodes you seem to be having. We shall change your name, and erase all attachment to the name ‘Peter Parker’. Now, your new life has just begun. What’s your name?”

“I’m...” the boy drew a blank. “I don’t know who I am.”

Lucius turned his whole body to face him. Peter took two steps back, his eyes locked onto Lucius. “I-I’m sorry.” he stammered. “I haven’t thought about it yet, I mean...this all so much.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it.” Lucius said menacingly.

The wizard never stopped advancing on him, and Peter kept giving ground. “Bob!” he said. “How about ‘Bob’? Everyone likes a ‘Bob’.”

Lucius was not amused.

“No? O-okay, how about ‘Raistlin’? That’s a cool name, or my friend says anyway.”

A surge of electricity sent Peter’s body spasming frantically and in pain. He screamed as he fell to the ground.

“This is not a joke, boy!” Lucius yelled angrily. “No more panicking! No more fear of the past! No more of your pathetic, weakling tears!” He sent another shock through the boy, gritting his teeth as he watched Peter screaming in agony. After his body stopped twitching erratically, Peter wiped his face and changed his expression to a grimace before springing back to his feet. He faced Lucius with hate in his eyes, and clenched his fists.

“Stop it!” Peter snapped. “I’ll choose.”

Lucius smiled in appreciation. He was using his anger as a strength for once. Good, he thought to himself. He can be taught after all.

“Make me stop.”

The wizard charged another bolt, but Peter was ready, and side stepped it before landing a punch on Lucius. The old man stumbled backward, thankful for his mastery at quickly developing magical wards. The shield cracked at the boy’s raw power. He wasn’t pulling his punch against him, and by the enraged look on the boy’s face, he didn’t care either.

“That wasn’t bad...Peter.”

“That’s not my name anymore.” the boy said. “That’s not my damn name!”

He launched himself at Lucius, who repaired his own magical barrier in time to meet Peter’s rage head on. The impact sent them both backwards a few yards, with Lucius being the first to stand back up unscathed thanks to his now shattered shield. Peter then got back up and walked back towards his new master.

“How about David?” he said. “David Banner?”

“Lose the last name.” said Lucius. “I’ll accept David. We’ll also fix your hair, to make sure you don’t resemble your old self. Congratulations, David. You passed the test.”

“What?”

“I wanted to see you harness your anger without hesitation. And you did. Your name shall now be David for the sake of keeping yourself hidden, and for your new identity. Now come, David. I will teach you the ways of magic.”

Peter, or rather, David felt a sense of pride. Now that was a welcome feeling. No more worry. No more despair, or guilt. There was no more “Peter” to worry about May, to grieve the death of Tony Stark, or fear losing his friends. All of that responsibility, that pain, was shed like molted skin. There was no more responsibility, and only more power.

 

David spent his first few days in a scholarly section of the newly reconstructed compound. No longer a simple emptied warehouse, the mages had used their stone shaping magic to mold the rubble and debris into their own base of operations. From the outside, it still looked like an abandoned warehouse with a few smaller buildings around it. Inwardly, drapes decorated the walls and support beams, each one with that same circular symbol on it colored in red and black. The educational area was in a small building to the east of the main structure, and housed a vast collection of books and spell tomes for beginners and novice mages in training.

The setting was similar to that of a classroom, with time taken out of each day to teach young aspirants like himself (and some older) how to properly read and write the magical words and letters that were used in the arcane arts. Peter had recognized some of the words from the phrases he overheard Lucius say. The instructor taught the class that magic exists all around them in a form known as the Weave. Its substance flowed through all living creatures, in the air, essentially in all things. David once received quite a beating after jokingly calling it “The Force.”

All corporal punishment aside, David learned with his classmates that it took determination, focus, and a dominant mind to command its darker power. Therefore it was essential that one learned how to pronounce and write them with perfect accuracy, lest a poor soul accidentally cast a fireball rather than simply heating an object. One of his newer friends, Adrian, had the tendency to accidentally incinerate small objects and rats while practicing in the fields. Thankfully the place was surrounded by water and kept hidden from sight during practice hours by yet another spell cast only by the Masters. Speaking of Masters, David was the envy of all of his new classmates. His master was the Arch-Mage Lucius himself. He sat in on classes at times, and often asked the instructors about David’s progress. David felt loved, respected, and in some ways, feared by those who only knew him from a distance. Eventually, the lesson came that explained the strange symbol that was plastered all over the halls and banners of the facility. The symbol was for the Order of Asmodeus, a deity also referred to as the Prince of Law and Ruler of Hell.

“Whoa, whoa whoa.” David interrupted the lecture. “So we basically serve the devil? Are you freaking serious? I mean, this never ends well. Like ever.”

The instructor pulled out his whip. “Not even close to the devil _you_ are thinking of, you loud mouth! Now let me finish!”

“Here it comes.”

The beatings he got when he made a smart comment in class only empowered his rage more, giving him the extra drive he needed to try to cast his first spell. He tried, even breaking the rules and practicing after hours in the dark outside to get an edge ahead of the others. Unfortunately he couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. He fared much better in physical combat than anything magical. His speed and agility were second to none, and the physical training exercises he undertook were child’s play to him. But when it came to the magical challenges, he only won about half of the time. Lucius knew that the boy would have to adjust to his new element. Besides, he wasn’t planning on using him for magical purposes. It was his physical prowess, combined with his increasing understanding of the dark arts to keep him under the Arch-Mage’s thumb, that Lucius needed. The boy had a natural charisma that attracted people towards him, now that he was confident and bold.

Lucius would send emissaries to the streets, enticing vulnerable people young and old to find an escape from the harshness of life through proof of magic. He was steadily building his forces for means known only to himself and the Masters that served under him. David saw the attendance in his classes continue to grow, which meant to him that perhaps the Order of Asmodius was more than just a religious cult. Maybe he was going to be a part of something bigger, and he couldn’t wait to see what it was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make some references to my D&D days with Asmodeus, an evil deity in that game's universe. Also, the Weave is from D&D too, and acts sort of as The Force for magic users. Yes, I'm a nerd. I know. That's why I'm here lol. Also, fun fact: David Banner was the name of the main character in the old Incredible Hulk TV series. His name was changed from "Bruce" to "David" because they considered the name "Bruce" to be too homosexual....Yeah. That happened.
> 
> The next chapter recaps things from another character's point of view, before continuing with the main story. I really hope you enjoy things so far. I know this was probably a weird chapter, and believe me, Peter (or David) finds it weird as hell too. It'll all make sense as the story goes on! Thanks for the support. Lemme know what ya think.


	7. Come Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of the story so far, as seen through the eyes of May Parker.

May Parker sat alone in a computer chair, gazing out of the window. She knew her Peter would come back. She just knew it, didn’t she? May thought she was finally beginning to bond with Peter a bit better after he confessed his identity as Spider-Man, and agreed to let him continue. He was fine for a while, and came home not too late with a smile on his face. A few times he had some scratches on him, but with his enhanced healing it didn’t really concern either of them too much. She trusted that Mr. Stark was going to keep his word, or he’d have hell to pay.

 

Then one morning, May was washing dishes in the kitchen when her phone rang. It was Mr. Stark. He never called unless it was something important. She snatched the phone and answered it.

 

“This is May.”

“Yes, hi. So I have something, uh.. how do I put it? Well, Karen tells me that last night Peter got into a little bit of a tussle-”

May’s heart stopped. If anything happened to that little boy…

 

“I swear on all things sacred, Mr. Stark-” she spat out with venom in her tone. “He better be okay. He better be up there, in his room or-”

Her anger was only fueled more by the pompous billionaire interrupting her as if it were no big deal at all. What she didn’t realize was that Tony was more frightened than she was.

“No, no. He’s fine. At least physically.” He muttered that last part on accident.

“What?!” she snapped at him.

“Nothing! Nothing. Look so um, he may have, well… Just go check on him ok?”

May wasn’t convinced. Tightening her grip around her smartphone she said very firmly, “You tell me what happened. Or I go to the reporters right now and tell them you hired a 14 year old boy to fight your battles.”

She practically heard Tony swear on the other line.

“Look May, he probably just got a little spooked. I already talked to him earlier this morning and I can promise he’s fine okay? Just keep an eye on him and let me know how he’s doing okay?”

 

May hung up the phone, and cursed Tony under her breath. She went to check on Peter, who she thought would be upstairs in his room. Sadly, he was already gone and the suit was with him. Although she was not sure what had happened the night before, she feared that Peter had been nearly killed. The thought of losing him was too much for her to think about, so she texted him as often as she could in order to check on him while she was at work. He never responded. More and more often, Peter came home late through the window to his bedroom, and night after night he closed himself off from her and escaped into the city as Spider-Man. She was losing him, and she felt powerless to do anything about it. She never stopped trying to reach out to him, hoping that one day he’d finally just let her in and tell her what was wrong. He was a teenager. She knew that, but she also knew that Peter needed her and that she needed to be there when he would finally be ready to open up.

 

“Peter!” she would call out when she heard a thud from upstairs.

 

She would run upstairs and knock on his door.

 

“What is it, Aunt May?” he would answer, always sounding irritated.

 

Usually, these conversations would begin like this, then May would ask how Peter was doing.

 

“I’m fine!” He would say to her every time. “I’m just tired. Please let me sleep.”

 

If she pried further, which she had done on occasion, he would snap at her to leave him alone and run away until late at night. Then one night, she was preparing dinner and pulled her meatloaf from the oven. A loud slam from upstairs alerted her that her boy had come home again. Maybe this would be the night, she thought.

 

“Peter?” she called out hopefully. “Is that you?”

 

“No.” he shouted back sarcastically. “I’m not here.”

 

He was responding to her. This was a good sign, and May felt her heart swell with joy. This could be it. He might just open up. For just that one moment, Peter actually sounded like his normal self. She couldn’t help but smile.

 

“Smart-ass.” she whispered to herself.

 

That was Peter alright. Always the smart mouth, but he was such a good kid. May sighed hopefully, eager for the kid to come running down the stairs and eat with her. She turned off the oven and grabbed the TV remote nearby, pressing the “ON” button before setting it on the table and grabbing plates and cups from the cabinets. She paid no attention the fact that it was time for the news.

 

“A man in Queens was found dead today, from what police conclude was a homicide. The victim, who is remaining anonymous, was found with a fractured skull and a shattered jaw. He suffered more injuries including burns on his chest and abdomen. It is believed he died from his injuries. Authorities are still unsure of the motive or suspects. Eyewitnesses say that Spider-Man could be involved, however this has yet to be confirmed.”

 

 _Oh no._ _This was it. That had to be what was bothering him._

 

“Oh my God.” May whispered to herself, slumping into the couch in the living room. “Peter, what happened, baby?”

 

The report continued. “The burns ranged from mild to severe, especially in the chest area, and looked to be caused by electricity, not fire, leaving police puzzled as to where they came from. No weapons were found at the scene, only small traces of sand. We will be sure to keep you updated as the story develops.”

 

“He didn’t do it.” May said to herself. “Petey didn’t do it.”

 

May quickly shut off the TV and ran up the stairs to Peter’s room, swinging the door open without knocking. Now she knew what happened, and she knew he was innocent. He needed her support. Thankfully she caught him just in time. He had that damn costume tucked under his arm, and was already trying to escape through the window yet again. That was enough. This stops now.

 

“And where do you think you’re going?!” she demanded.

 

_We need to talk! Stop running from me, Peter. Please!_

 

“Um… out?” he said, with a frightened look on his face. “I was gonna swing by Ned’s house.”

 

_Yeah right._

 

May stepped into the room, never taking her eyes off of Peter. If she was finally going to get him to talk, she needed him away from the window.

 

“Step. Away. From the window!” May demanded.

Peter didn’t move.

“Now.”

With a quiet sigh, he finally backed away and sat on the bed. His costume dropped to his feet, still in a wadded ball. May sat next the boy, taking his hand into hers. This was her chance. She prayed that it would go well.

“Pete.” she said softly. “What’s going on?”

Peter snatched his hand out of hers and stood right back up, pacing in the middle of the room.

“I don’t want to-”

_No, don’t block me!_

May cut him off. “I’m just _concerned,_ Peter!”

“Well, _don’t_ be!” he exploded. “I’m fine! I’ve always been fine! Just-”

“Just what?” May said, her eyes moistening with tears. She blew it. Her only chance at getting him to talk, and she blew it. “You can tell me. Please.”

Peter shook his head, and grabbed his suit and backpack. “I’m sorry, Aunt May.”

He ran away again, leaving May alone with her tears. Sobbing, she pulled out her cellphone and dialed Tony Stark.

 

“Yes, hello?” He picked up almost immediately, his voice sounding worried. There was a loud mechanical noise in the background. “May, I know. Before you ask, yes I saw the news. FRIDAY showed it to me while I was working in the lab. Look, I’m about to call him so-”

 

“He ran off again!” she yelled at him, as if this were somehow Tony’s fault. “He’s not listening to me, he’s not answering my texts or my calls and now he’s out there Tony. My boy is out there, and he’s _scared!_ ”

“Listen, May. I’ll-”

She cut him off right there, her voice filled with emotion. “No _you_ listen, Tony! You go out there right now. You find my boy, and you bring him home. He’ll listen to you. He looks up to you. Please, Tony. Find him!”

“I will! Just, I can’t scare him or he’ll never come home. I’ll tell him I’ll come by tomorrow or something. Maybe that will make him feel a little more at ease.”

Tony was silent for a few seconds, and she heard the sound of air through the phone. He was getting in his suit the whole time. May felt a bit embarrassed for assuming that Tony never cared about anyone but himself. She always thought him to be a bit narcissistic, but here he was just as scared as she was about Peter. If anyone could find him, Tony could.

“I’m on my way now, May. Just sit tight and I’ll keep you updated. FRIDAY, call Peter. End call.”

 

* * *

 

Minutes felt like hours as May sat on the couch, her TV on the news stations flipping back and forth waiting to hear a news story about Spider-Man. She prayed to God that there wouldn’t be one, but something in her conscience told her to keep the television on just in case. Her phone stayed in her hand. No matter what, she would know where Peter was. One way or another, she would not lose him again. Suddenly, she heard a loud crash through her front door. It was Tony, still in his suit, and he was carrying Peter. He was unconscious, and Tony looked pale and terrified. She shot up out of her seat. Tony was the first to speak.

 

“May we need to talk!” he said urgently, rushing past her and up the stairs to Peter’s room.

 

May way already trailing him.

 

“Oh my God, Peter!” she cried. “What happened?!”

 

Tony laid the boy on his bed and tossed his mask by the keyboard. His metal suit collapsed and disappeared, leaving Tony in a black suit and tie. May was speechless by the look on his face. He looked so frightened. She could swear that he was even shaking. He sat on the floor by Peter’s bed, eyes red and welling with tears. May sat on Peter’s computer chair, unsure whether to fix her concerned gaze on Tony or Peter. Perhaps both.

“He tried to kill himself, May.” Tony choked sorrowfully.

She couldn’t believe it, and shook her head, crying. Tony tried to keep himself together, not letting his tears actually fall. “Oh my God, he tried to jump from my old tower. And I...” He stopped to notice May crying silently, staring at him.

 “I saved him.” he reassured her, putting his hand on her shoulder. “I caught him, but. I just… Oh May, I’m so sorry.”

“Peter had already gone through so much.” she sobbed quietly to Tony as he laid Peter’s unconscious body onto his bed. “I never thought...I should have thought...”

This was no good. She needed to try and compose herself if she wanted answers. “What happened out there, Tony?” she asked quietly.

Tony took a moment to keep himself composed. “I’d been checking on him since the night Karen sent messaged me the night he got roughed up. I’ve been calling him, trying to get through to him but he was hiding something from me. After I got off the phone with you, I called him. He was trying to justify himself for what he did. I’ll never forget what he said: ‘The end justifies the means.’ That’s when I knew he had changed. Something was wrong with him. I don’t know if he’s been having a hard time in school or what it was but...” He trailed off, gently resting a hand on Peter’s head.

 “I think he’s fallen in with a bad crowd.” He knew his facade was fading fast. Still he kept himself from breaking down. “I heard another voice from someone next to him, egging him on to say things like that to me. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m going to get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, watch over him, okay?”

Tony raced down the stairs, fighting against his grief and worry. He made it to the front porch before May stopped him again. With how quickly she caught up to him, he halfway wondered if a spider bit her too.

“Thank you for bringing him home.” she said.

“Don’t thank me yet.” he told her solemnly. “I wasn’t prepared, May. I just wasn't prepared. But I will be next time. I will make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

Tony allowed his armor to encapsulate him, then flew off into the night, leaving May alone with Peter, and a broken door.

“I’ll pay for the door, by the way!” Tony yelled as he flew off.

 

To hell with the door. May thought.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, May woke up early and made a plate of bacon and eggs for Peter. She hadn’t slept at all, and her eyes were puffy and swollen.

“Peter.” She called to him gently from behind his door. “I have breakfast! Are you awake?”

There was no answer. May considered giving it a moment before trying again, but feared that if she waited too long, she would just be met with the same empty room and the aching in her heart. No. She was determined to see him. No more waiting. If he was not going to come to her, then she would go to him.

 

“Peter, honey. “I’m going to come in and check on you.”

Aunt May slowly opened the door, but not all the way. She barely cracked it, and gently called his name again.

“Come in.” Peter said, weakly.

Aunt May stepped inside, carrying a plate of bacon and eggs for him. She set the plate by his keyboard, and softly held Peter’s hand.

_If only you knew how much we all love you._

She looked him straight in the eye and asked if he remembered anything. He shook his head. May was worried, yet relieved that Peter had forgotten. Maybe if he wouldn’t remember what happened with him and Tony, it would be one less thing for him to stress about. She continued to play calm, so that she wouldn’t make Peter feel guilty for worrying her and Tony so much last night.

“Your breakfast is right over there, honey.” she said casually.

Peter managed to sit up. “What happened?”

“We’ll talk about that later. For now, I’m just glad you’re in one piece. Now eat you breakfast before I have to microwave it again.”

May was not quite sure whether or not she should have kept sitting by him, or give him a little privacy so that he wouldn’t run away feeling smothered. But what if he ran away again?

“Stop it, May.” she thought to herself. If Peter was going to run again, it wouldn’t matter if she were in the room or not. May didn’t want to leave him, but she knew that she couldn’t stop him if he chose to run. Finally, she made up her mind and left his room. As she walked down the stairs, she knew that Peter would be listening, and that he might not be there when she came back up again. It wouldn’t be a long wait. May sighed heavily as she heard Peter’s footsteps and, feeling as though there was no other choice but to accept her fate, she collapsed on the couch and whispered into her hands that were now covering her face, “I love you, Peter. Come home.”

 

She stayed glued to that couch, flicking through the channels. News reports came and went, but they were current events that May cared nothing about. Another shooting, another scandal. All she cared about was Peter, and hoping that Tony would call her soon. May had no idea how much time went by while she waited, fighting the urge to bolt out of the door and search for him herself. Finally, her worst fears came to life in front of her. A news bulletin, accompanied by loud music and bright graphics all over the screen interrupted a shampoo commercial. The live footage showed Spider-Man slowly floating down as if by magic, accompanied by a white haired man in a gray robe. She cried in horror as she saw her boy holding Tony Stark’s lifeless body in his arms.

 

“Breaking news: Tony Stark Dead?! Spider-Man Caught Carrying Tony Stark’s Body!” was the banner that repeated itself over and over on the bottom of the screen. May cupped her mouth in disbelief.

_He didn’t do it. He didn’t do it!_

She nearly fainted from the shock, unable to hear the chattering of the reporters who were live at the scene. The last thing she saw was a multicolored spray of lights, then she saw the white haired man plunge a knife into her little boy. When the display of lights finally stopped, they were both gone, and Tony Stark was being loaded into an ambulance. May didn't see what happened after that, nor did she really care. Peter was murdered on live television, her little Peter Parker! And Tony Stark was dead as well. It was all too much. She covered her face, mouthing the words but unable to actually speak them.

"He's dead.  He's dead. Oh my God. Peter is dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support and the comments! The next chapter will continue the story, but I felt it was important to express Aunt May's side a little more.


	8. First Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David is finally ready for his first mission, but like most things in his life, things don't go as planned.

Christmas had passed by without so much as a sneer on the faces of David's fellow brethren. There was no time for such idiotic festivities, not when there was still so much to be done. David spent his free time gazing at the city from the window in his room, looking at his reflection and how he had changed. He still wasn’t used to having black hair, or having it long enough to rest on his shoulders, but the girls around him certainly didn’t mind the new look or how his thick locks of hair looked when coated in jet black. His mentors and instructors had told him that he only felt so empty lately was because he was eager for his first mission for the Cult. Lucius had been informed of the boy’s habits, and secretly feared that he was losing his hold over this stubborn brat. He had to bring David deeper into the ways of the Cult of Asmodeus.

David still practiced his magic daily, finally able to cast a flare without much trouble and even set objects aflame with only a touch of his hands. On sparring practices, when he would engage in magical combat, he used his slight magical abilities to his advantage. One example was when his sparring partner, a full grown man named Tom, blasted him in the face with ice. David ducked too late, and his face was covered in white frost. Tom tried to go in for the kill by conjuring up a slash of acid to burn him, but David's spider sense warned him of the incoming danger and he easily leapt out of harm's way. While still airborne, David murmured the words of magic and fired a flaring light from his hands. The older man screamed in frustration and panic, "I'm blind!" and David saw his chance. Landing on his feet, he quickly uttered another phrase and wrapped his arms around Tom with a deadly bear hug grip. David grinned as his fingers burned through the man's robes, as he was screaming in agony. His eyes were like a crazed wolf through the two long locks of jet black that dangled in front of them.

"You win!" Tom shouted. "It burns! Let me go! It's burning through my skin!"

Tom's screaming grew higher in pitch, and David ignored the smell of his opponent's burning flesh, digging his fingers deeper with his burning touch. The other sparring mages glanced over once to see what all the ruckus was about, and then went back to their own business. The Way of Lucius was simple: "The strong conquer all. Show no pity, no mercy. For these are traits of the weak."

Lucius smiled proudly at his new apprentice, watching in amusement as David was still torturing the sorry old fool who was now pathetically begging for his life. After torturing him enough, David released the poor man from his grip and walked away. He felt the surge of dominance course through his veins after nearly killing the man, and it was exhilarating. Lucius had the boy brought to his quarters shortly after the incident, where he then dismissed his guards at the door. David pretended not to be scared, but Lucius could see right through him.

“Sit down, David.” He said politely, motioning to a nearby seat in front of his desk. “Tell me your troubles you, my son.”

 

David felt a little uncomfortable at first when Lucius would refer to him as “son”. Part of him wanted a father, and wanted to latch on to Lucius as that paternal figure that he longed for. Yet, a small piece of him refused to give in. It was frustrating still being in a mental conflict, but being able to take out his rage and angst in any way he saw fit made it more bearable. He only wished that he had someone who actually cared about him. It was a pathetic thought, unfitting of a strong person like himself. Occasionally, Lucius would catch David crying out in his sleep, yelling about either the Vulture, or Tony Stark. It was no secret that he was still being plagued with guilt. Lucius was well aware of the help and compassion that David needed, but why do such a thing when he was so much more useful as a broken wreck? One night, Lucius had enough of David struggling to sleep and had caught him once again while monitoring the halls.

“You’re pathetic, David.” He growled that night. “If you can’t handle your own imagination, you’re never going to survive in the real world.”

Then he silenced the panic-stricken David with a wave of his hand, and the boy found himself mute. He screamed in fear, in anger, lost in his own traumatizing memories and no longer being able to cry for help. Defeated, he curled into a ball and quietly sobbed to sleep. Thankfully the spell wore off by morning, but David learned to never again seek help for his problems. It was up to him to shove his feelings deep down, or unleash them in a rage, but never in sadness or pity. So when Lucius asked to share his troubles with him at this moment, David was hesitant, but found a way to word it so that it wouldn’t sound too weak.

 

“Father.” He said with a stoic expression. “I am not troubled by your presence, but I find myself restless. Nightmares still plague my sleep, but I think it is due to boredom.”

Lucius widened his bright gray eyes. “Boredom?!” He spat. “Boy, you can barely cast magic and you talk to me of boredom!”

David remained fearless. He was used to beatings, and had already been subject to shocks, burns, and freezing. Nothing seemed to phase him anymore. In fact, he found himself starting to enjoy the pain. He deserved every bit of it, after all. And every bit of it would make him that much stronger. It was a win-win.

“I meant no disrespect.” He said. “I mean that I am eager for my first mission.”

He was pleased to find the Arch-Mage’s frown shape into a smile of approval. “In class and in study periods, you and the instructors talk of conquest, and as of last week they even mention some of us being chosen for missions in the service of striking fear into the people’s hearts. I think, father, that it is time we let the city of New York know of our presence.”

Lucius laughed and clapped his hands. “Good, David!” He said proudly. “Good. Yes, your physical prowess will come in handy. Now listen to me good, my son. I have a treat for your class tomorrow.” He pulled David close to him, and whispered delicately into his ear.

 

The next day, Lucius personally addressed David’s class of mages in training. His lesson was on the importance of keeping oneself grounded within the dark side of the magic that moves overt this world. The darkness within the Weave. David made no jokes this time. He found himself actually being eager to hear more. Those fully blessed by the dark forces of magic, he told them often, would be physically changed in their appearance and be granted with enormous power. Lucius then closed his eyes and removed his hood.

"This is what the touch of the dark side has done to me." He declared proudly. “Behold the blessing of Asmodeus.”

David and his fellow classmates gasped at Lucius's true appearance. His skin had a slight silver tint to it, and his eyes burned a fiery yellow with a red outline around the irises. His eyes looked as if they could spit fire, and they even glowed a little. Lucius reassured the students that he felt no pain, only power. With a welcoming hand, he motioned for the students to touch him, and see his face up close. They were so brainwashed by the cultists that they began admiring the Arch-Mage as blessed by the Evil One, and asked a plethora of questions on how they too could achieve such a feat.

“A good question!” he said with a smile. “Today I have a surprise for you all.” He then ordered the instructor to have them return to their seats. “Your class is the highest performing, so I have decided to give you all a little test. If you pass, I shall see to it that you too are granted access to more powerful magic, and will earn your place as my most elite mages. Should you fail, then I have no further use for any of you.”

The students jumped at the chance to prove themselves, their voices shouting eagerly to be told their first mission. The fools, thought Lucius. They were so gullible, especially the teenagers. They had no idea of what their true purpose was going to be.

“You are all to go to the streets, to Manhattan, and begin spreading word of our gospel there. Should you encounter any...trouble, you are free to use whatever means you wish to spread the word that we shall not be toyed with. Come back with new recruits or spoils of your enemies, or don’t come back at all. Is that understood?”

They all shouted in agreement. “Yes, Arch-Mage!”

With a wave of his hand, he sent them off. David also turned to run out of the door and grab his supplies he would need for his spell casting, when Lucius caught him by the hand. “Wait, David!”

David turned around and flashed a look of anger at his father. Just let me go already! He thought to himself.

“I made you a special armor for this mission, my son. Take it, and wear it proudly, for it bears the symbol of Asmodeus.”

 

He handed David a neatly folded black suit, its material feeling oddly familiar. David unraveled it and widened his eyes in shock. It was his old suit! The one he had worn while he was still Spider-Man. But the Masters and magus who had first taken his suit made some very obvious changes to it. It was almost entirely black, save for some gold on the shoulders, forearms and belt. The mask was also black, with the entire face portion cut out so that his face would be clearly visible. In the middle of the chest, the tiny spider had been replaced with a giant golden symbol of the Evil One. An inverted triangle rested on above two long fangs that extended downward toward the waist of the costume. David recognized this symbol from his lessons. It was the more commonly used symbol of Asmodeus, and he would be proud to wear it. He eagerly slipped into the suit, and felt a tinge of nostalgia hit him as the suit automatically adjusted to his size. Lucius then conjured him a mask made of bone, its eyes large and dreadful. There were glowing runes carved along the edges and dreadful face of the mask itself, designed for protection. Although there were no holes for David to see out of, it was clear that Lucius had re-purposed the eye mechanisms from the old mask to suit this one. David pressed the bone to his face, and was surprised to find that it magically fused to the rest of the head gear around him, but still gave him room to breath and speak freely.

One last piece of equipment was the hood, also gold in color, to fit the look. David found the entire suit a bit odd, perhaps not his taste, but he was grateful for the gift nonetheless. He then gave a quick bow of thanks to his father, and ran to join the rest of his classmates on their first mission.

* * *

 

The citizens of Manhattan were not too keen on the preaching of these wack-jobs as they professed their faith in the open streets. They were met with shouts and jeers, usually the “get out of my way!” type, as some of the older folk tried physically blocking the paths of pedestrians in order to grab their attention. David thought that it was a wonder they hadn’t been physically assaulted yet. While the others were using the old tactics of preaching at the street curbs, David decided to _show_ what he had been taught instead. After grabbing an empty paper bag from a nearby trash can and dropping it on the ground next to him, he concentrated his energy on developing a small flame in his left hand and watched as a few spectators marveled at what he was doing. David then decided to take things up a notch and do a few flips while juggling the flame.

“Nice costume, dork!” one man shouted at him, but David paid him no mind.

Surely enough, a small crowd gathered around David, where they dropped cash in his bag and awed in amusement. David then waited for the inevitable questions.

“Where did you learn that?” a few people asked.

David smiled from inside his bone mask, its runes glowing a bright red color. He kept performing his acrobatics while answering carefully. “Oh, a school nearby. They’re offering free lessons too if you’re interested!”

A young brown haired man in plain clothes stepped forward and opened his right palm as if expecting a tip or something. He glared at David with suspicion. “Who is your teacher?” He asked, his eyes staring daggers at David.

David thought nothing of the question, think that this was his chance to prove himself to his master, and take his place as an elite. Tony had never given him a “first mission”, and yet Lucius had already done so. He wasn’t going to screw this up, and he was certainly going to show this long-haired young punk who was the boss. He kept the fire in his hand, and straightened his back in response to the bravado that this young man was displaying.

“My master serves a being named Asmodeus.” He said with firm resolve. “And as you can see, he’s done quite well.”

He felt a little saddened that the young man took a step backward. David had only meant to assert himself, not scare a potential recruit away. He softened his tone in an attempt to be more friendly.

“Hey, man. Name’s David. We’re learning real magic from a wizard who worships a cool evil deity. Wanna come?”

 _Maybe that was too friendly._ He thought.

The young man yelled a strange phrase that David was unfamiliar with, and he saw that the once empty palm now held a short sword. The man took a quick swing at David, who jumped out of the way with ease. His spectators now ran away in fear, some screaming, others pulling out their phones to record the fight.

“Your master is Lucius!” the man yelled. “Behold, servant of evil! I, Lance of the Dawnflower, shall vanquish you here and now!”

“What in the actual hell?”

David jumped backwards into the traffic behind him, landing on top of a car as Lance failed yet another swing. What was the Dawnflower? He wondered. The other classmates heard the fighting and rushed to his aid, only to be met by more sword wielding enemies who also were hidden in plain clothing. David was surprised when Lance shot a small bolt of fire from his fingertips. David countered by hurling the flame he held in his hand, and struck Lance in the chest. Adrian shouted words of his own and fired a missile of pure magical energy at the opponent in front of him, and succeeded in blasting the poor soul into the pavement. Lance shook off the damage, his clothing shaping into a blue and white set of robes with shining metal armor beneath them. David suddenly realized that these guys weren’t just angry spectators. They were rival mages! They had to be! Five more individuals shed their disguises, revealing their blue and white robes and began charging with a war cry at his fellow classmates. As David saw one of his friends being slashed across the chest, he let his anger flare and dove at the attacker, sending him flying into the windshield of a moving car. This was going to be a fight to the death. More magic users from both sides joined the fight, and with flames and ice shooting left and right, the air being covered in smoke and magical mist, it was clear that their diplomatic mission had turned into what was going to be one heck of a fire fight. Literally.

 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, in an undisclosed location deep within the basement of a ruined old church, one elderly seer was narrating the events with his own psychic abilities, as a War Priest of the Dawnflower was carefully listening.

“So it begins.” the priest said, a grim expression on his face. “We avenge our fallen brothers today.”

The seer turned to his master. “Shall we wake him?” He asked, pointing to a middle aged man in a crumpled and ruined business suit laying on a bed, covered in white blankets. The man’s eyes were closed, as if in a deep slumber. His black hair in a ruffled mess, but his sharply trimmed facial hair still the same length it has been for weeks.

“Yes.” said the War Priest. “It is time to put our plan into action. This individual will send Lucius into a panic, and we will deal a heavy blow to his forces.”

"Wake him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait. I lost my grandmother on Christmas and just got stuck in a rut while dealing with the grief. In the meantime my other grandmother had a heart attack and is in the hospital, and my best friend is dying of cancer-...also in the hospital. I'll probably write some other stuff too just to help deal with all that's going on in my personal life. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and please lemme know what you think. I'm almost done with the next chapter and will upload some time this week. I'm writing the next chapter now, trying to make my way toward the conclusion. The spells used in this chapter are based on D&D and Pathfinder, games I played years ago with friends I used to have. I've changed a few aspects of Asmodeus, mostly how he works bc he typically prefers subtlety, not what Lucius is doing here. But this is fan fiction and my main focus isn't the Pathfinder/D&D aspects anyway so I apologize if I offended any players with my different interpretation of the deities.
> 
>  
> 
> (Just for the Funsies, A list of Spells used in this chapter and the level the character would have to be to cast them:)
> 
> Flare- Level 0  
> Ray of Frost- Level 0  
> Corrosive Touch- Level 1  
> Mute- Level 2 (for wizards and sorcerers)  
> Burning Hands- Level 1  
> Disguise Self- Level 1  
> Conjure Weapon- Level 2  
> Magic Missile - Level 1  
> Obscuring Mist- Level 1  
> Remote Viewing- Level 4 (Seer)
> 
> If I missed any, lemme know! Thanks again for reading. If you like me listing spells, I can keep on. If not, I'll just stop doing that here.


	9. Anger Leads to Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David finds Tony, still alive. Tony finds Peter, or so he thinks.

Pain. He was in excruciating pain. Everything was black, and he was too weak to move or open his eyes.

“Sarenrae...” he heard voices whispering.

Tony wasn’t sure where he was exactly, but he could gather that he was on his back and in a warm environment. If only he could open his eyes. He struggled to open at least one eyelid, but it was no use. All he could do was listen to the whispering voices that surrounded him.

“Sarenrae, Goddess of Light. The Healing Flame. Please hear our prayers.”

“What the hell?” thought Tony. He had heard of many gods. Heck, he knew Thor on a personal level. But, Sarenrae? Tony kept trying to place that name, but he came up empty handed each time. His thoughts were interrupted by the sensation of multiple hands pressing against the burns on his chest, where Peter shot him. He couldn’t believe it. The kid actually shot him. Why? He was only trying to talk to him. After that kind of betrayal, Tony wasn’t sure he wanted anyone praying for him. He was partially disappointed that he was still alive.

“Heal this man.” one of the voices whispered. “Have mercy upon him, for he was prepared to give his life in protecting these innocent people from the forces of evil.”

_Wait, what?! Do they think I died?_

“May your will be done in this upcoming battle.”

As the voice continued praying, Tony felt strength return to his body, starting with his head. The cold emptiness he felt from Lucius’s touch was replaced by a warmness that spread throughout his entire being. He gasped desperately for air as life returned to him. His eyes flickered open, and he found himself laying on a soft bed, swaddled in white blankets, and surrounded by what he could only guess were missionaries or priests. Judging from the bits and pieces of tapestry and decoration remaining on the walls, he guessed that he was in an old worship room in a church, or something similar to that. As soon as they saw his eyes open, the priestly group breathed a sigh of relief and backed off to give Tony room to breathe. The eldest of them addressed him with admiration.

“Tony Stark. You are a blessed man, do you realize that?”

Tony blinked a few times, trying to process what the heck was going on. “Ok, I have so many questions right now. First of all, who are you? Two, where am I? And three, what the hell happened?”

The elder stepped forward and gave time for Tony to study him. His face was wrinkled with old age, and he had long white hair and a beard that went down to his chest. The man’s outfit was a tunic and robe colored in blue and white. Stripes of gold ran down the seams. He wore an amulet with the symbol of what appeared to be an angel.

“I am Daniel.” He said gently. “You are in our hidden sanctuary, an abandoned church that will soon be subject to deconsecration, and probably sold. These men here are some of my brothers in the faith. We are servants of Serenrae: Goddess of Cleansing Light, The Healing Flame, The Dawnflower, and Healer of-”

“Okay okay.” Tony interrupted, annoyed. “Look, I don’t particularly care about your religion. I just want to know what happened.”

The Seer broke his focus on remote viewing the battle in Manhattan and spoke up. “You were nearly killed by a servant of Lucius, a wizard serving the God-Fiend Asmodeus: Lord of Lies and Ruler of the Nine Hells. While you were in the hospital, we learned of what had befallen you, and rushed to get to you within the safety of our walls. Security was tight, that was to be sure, but it was nothing some disguising and sleep magic couldn’t take care of.”

Tony wasn’t quite sure what this guy was talking about with this magic stuff nor did he particularly care. His number one concern was busting out of here, and finding Peter. He leapt out of the bed and was dumbfounded to find his suit with a large burn in the chest, and dirt in his hair. “I was in the hospital?! How am I here?!” His voice was filled a panic he could not get himself to control. How long was he out of action? What about Pepper? She must be worried sick!

Daniel waved his hand, and Tony’s business suit was mending itself into nearly brand new condition and he was suddenly clean. Tony could only blink in amazement. This had to be some kind of trick. Sorcery wasn’t real. Then again, after fighting aliens alongside a god, and all the insanity that took place afterwards in the last few years, not much really seemed out of the ordinary anymore.

“Thanks, Daniel.” said Tony as he straightened his suit and dusted his pants. “Any chance you guys perform in Vegas?”

Daniel stared at him blankly. If Tony was joking with him, he didn’t know it.

“We only perform our magic arts in service of the Goddess.” He said. “What is this Vegas you speak of?”

Tony still wasn’t quite sure what to make of these guys, but it didn’t matter. They were friendly to him, and a friend is what he needed right now.

“You’re not from around here, are you Gandalf?”

“Not exactly, no.” he replied. “I told you already. I am Daniel, the leader and War Priest for the Dawnflower.”

“’War Priest’? That’s...” Tony took a moment to pinch his fingers to the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his patience with these whack jobs. “You know what? I don’t have time for this. Now I need to go back out there, and find what happened to Spider-Man and my bride-to-be. Now, excuse me.”

The old seer spoke up again. “I am sorry, Tony Stark. But the one you call Spider-Man is likely dead. The news spread all over the world.”

 

_No._

His face lost all color. If anything happened to that kid, he’d never forgive himself. Tony swiftly reached into his pocket, and whipped out his smartphone, also in pristine condition by some miracle. A quick search was all he needed, and his face went pale. There it was on all news and media outlets: “Breaking news: Tony Stark Dead?! Spider-Man Caught Carrying Tony Stark’s Body!” Other articles read with the headline: “Spider-Man Gone. Vanished After Being Stabbed In the Back.” Tony felt a chill down his spine when he watched the footage. There was Peter, carrying his body and...floating down? Since when did Peter get psychic powers? Behind him was an unfamiliar face. A man robed in gray, his face well concealed, was closely behind the kid, and after they landed, the reporters swarmed in with their accusations and questions. Tony immediately noticed that the man was the same one who had given him that dreadful ice cold, life draining touch. His mind was already making the connection that this man was the one influencing Peter.

Then he heard it. “Spider-Man!” a reporter shouted at him, her microphone shoved in his face. “Did you kill Tony Stark?”

His knuckles went white as he clenched the phone in anger. What kind of question was that to ask the poor kid?! He was already traumatized enough! He felt a wave of guilt hit him when Peter slowly nodded.

“ _No, kid.”_ He thought, his jaw clenched as he kept watching the footage. _“You didn’t kill me!”_

But then came the stab from behind. Tony tried to keep a straight face in front of the wizards, or whatever they were, but his eyes were welling up and he choked back any sign of tears. He saw Peter scream in agony as the robed man stabbed him in the back, and then vanished with his kid. The scream was enough to rip his heart in two. He had done this. He gave Peter the suit, encouraged his vigilantism, and failed to even mentor him. It had been too long since he called to check up on Peter, though he had Happy keep tabs. But Tony himself never reached out, or even expressed that he cared.

If he was honest with himself, he didn’t really know _how_ to express it. It was something Howard never did. Tony mentally snapped himself back together and promptly closed his browser window. He felt as if a building had just collapsed on him, crushing all of the air from his lungs, and weighing him down to the point of no return. Peter couldn’t be dead. He refused to believe it. The poor kid had gotten himself in huge trouble, and needed to be found. The biggest surprise came to him when he noticed the date of the video. The caption underneath read: “ _Posted a month ago.”_

“A month ago?!” Tony yelled, feeling the wave of shock nearly knocking him down. “I’ve been laying on my ass for a month?!”

Daniel tried to calm him while Tony loaded another news article on his phone. “We placed you in suspended animation to keep you safe. There is not much time to explain, but if your fight is with Lucius, the one who harmed your protege, then your time is here. His men are out there now, wrecking havoc and killing people. Tony, we need your help. We will answer your questions later! I swear on the holy name of Sarenrae but you _must_ fight!”

Tony saw the article that only pissed him off even more. He had been declared deceased, also a month ago. His hands trembled with anger as he shot a glare at the mages around him. “The whole world thinks I’m dead. My protege is out there, my fiance is out there, my company, my _**everything**_ and they all think I’m dead!”

The old seer tried to correct the furious businessman. “Your protege is dead.”

“He’s _**not**_ dead!” Tony roared back.

This was all a lot to process at once, his thoughts flooding with worry about Peter’s whereabouts, if he really was dead or alive. But first, he needed to let his fiance know what was going on. If the world thought that Tony Stark was dead, he needed to at least make sure Pepper knew he was alive. He pulled her up on his contacts list and tapped to call.

“Tony!” she cried out after only one ring. “Please tell me it’s you! Tell me you’re still alive!”

“Yes, baby.” He said in a quick burst of emotion, one that he immediately reeled back in. “It’s me. I’m here.”

“Oh my God, Tony where the _hell_ have you been?!”

“Pep, I don’t know. I need you to listen to me real quick-”

“What’s going on? You promised no more surprises! You promised! I swear to God Tony-”

She was hysterical, and he couldn’t blame her.

“I don’t know much, Pep, but I know that Peter’s in danger and I can’t just leave him out there. Also, I found a merry band of wizards who seem to be interested in helping me.”

“Don’t joke right now. Don’t you dare!”

“I’m not.”

There was a moment of dead air before Pepper said sharply, “I’m coming over there, and I don’t care what you have to say.”

“No, Pepper wait-”

“Don’t move!”

“Pepper, I-”

The call was disconnected.

“So _that’s_ what that feels like.” He said to himself.

Daniel waved his hand, mumbling incoherent words and opening a portal behind Tony. “We don’t have time for this!” He shouted and forced Tony through the portal before closing it.

 

* * *

 

Instantly, Tony found himself surrounded by at least twenty people shooting fire, ice and electricity at each other. Smoke and mist clouded the air, and property was being destroyed left and right.

“HOLY-!”

He dodged a flying car that crashed through a window to a donut shop behind him. Tony reached for his sunglasses that were in his pocket, and put them on. 

“FRIDAY!” He yelled, keeping low to the ground.

“Boss! You’re alive!”

“Celebrate later, FRI. I need a suit! Now!”

“Right away, Boss.”

He felt an intense heat rising behind him. The car had caught on fire. Tony scrambled to his feet and ran for a safer spot for cover. A stray beam of frost grazed his shoulder and he felt that area freeze and become coated in the cold. A young man pulled Tony by the arm and raised him to his feet. He was about Peter’s age, with long brown hair and wearing blue and white robes. The sword he wielded burned brightly, and he put himself in front of Tony to act as a temporary shield.

“Greetings, Tony Stark!” the young man said. “I am Lance of the Dawnflower! You have many questions, I imagine but-”

He pulled Tony out of the way as a splash of acid fell where they would have been standing. The acid made a hissing noise as it ate at the pavement. Lance gripped his sword tightly, a confident smile curled slightly on his lips.

“It’ll have to wait. Get your suit of iron! We need your aid if we are to stop Lucius!”

Another explosion shook the ground, and Tony saw bodies flying left and right. In the distance, he saw one of his suits coming toward him, and David couldn’t help but hear the all too familiar roaring of thrusters getting louder.

“No...” He growled to himself. “No! It can’t be!”

David leapt into the air and grabbed the suit by its ankles, crushing them with his rage-fueled might. Only Tony knew that when he was still Peter Parker, he was always holding back his raw strength, and could have easily killed Bucky and Captain America when they had fought. Things were different now. The suit that Peter once always fanboyed over, and made him smile ever since he was a child at the Stark Expo, now filled David with anger and feelings of betrayal. Who was this impostor wearing the Iron Man suit? It couldn’t be Tony Stark. He was dead. Peter killed him. This had to be Pepper, or some other punk trying to take the mantle. Whatever the case may have been, he hated the suit with a passion he didn’t even know he had. Memories of Peter’s anguish, his nights spent alone when he needed someone to talk to, the dismissiveness of Tony whenever Peter tried to reach out to him...all those feelings came rushing back to him, and David let out an angry cry as he ripped the legs off of the suit.

Tony noticed the black and gold figured that had easily ripped his saving grace apart as if it were toilet paper. The remaining torso of the suit crash landed into the street. That man wasn’t like the others. He didn’t use magic nearly as much as these wack-jobs that were casting spells left and right. He was stronger than anybody else here, and much more acrobatic. As Tony tried to get a closer look, a portal opened in the middle of the battle, and out of it stepped none other than Lucius.

With a raised hand and a powerful shout, Lucius summoned a hailstorm of fire and stone that came crashing down around anyone within a 20ft radius. His disciples rallied to his side, and were afraid to find their master disappointed. To their surprise, he smiled.

“I see you’ve killed quite a few of them, my children.” He grinned.

Adrian lamented. “But we’ve lost a few, and David’s busy ripping apart an Iron Man suit that flew out of nowhere.”

“What?!”

Lucius looked left and right for his protege, but couldn’t find him. His main worry was the reemergence of the Iron Man suit. Had somebody unworthy taken up the mantle, or was Tony Stark still somehow alive? What if he was here now, fighting alongside the Cultists of the Dawflower? It would mean trouble. Tony was a powerful man, technologically and financially. He could definitely discern the location of his hideout, and use his technological skills to shut them down. He didn’t care so much about the others, such as Captain America. They had split from the rest of those Avenger folk, and were probably too busy hiding in a hole or something to pay any attention anyway. Stark was the only one he feared, and it looked like he might just be back.

“Go, my disciples!” Lucius yelled, shielding them with a magic barrier. “I shall cover you. Today we have shown our might, and you have met your foes. You have earned my favor, now quickly! GO!”

Adrian called for David, but there was no reply. Another student grabbed him and pulled him into the portal with the remaining members of the group. Lucius closed his eyes, and focused on the name of his protege, picturing him in his mind.

“David.” He thought. “Where are you, my son?”

Meanwhile, David was ripping the arms off of the Iron Man suit, beating it into pieces. Every single piece of hardware reminded him of Tony Stark, the self-centered jackass of a man, failure of a caring father figure, and complete tragedy of mentor-hood. He couldn’t make Tony suffer, because he was dead, but he could lash out on that damned suit he loved so much. Suddenly he heard his real father’s voice in his head.

“Where are you, my son?”

His head perked up, and in the distance he saw Lucius with an open portal. “I’m tearing our enemies to pieces!” He yelled and threw aside a piece of the breastplate, hitting a Dawnflower cultist through the chest.

Tony was still far away, but he heard David’s voice just barely. It sounded so familiar, almost like it was…

“Peter?” he said quietly, still dodging the debris and magic flying all around him.

David heard him, and he froze. Lucius kept talking. “David, I need you to stay here, in the city. Eliminate any Dawnflower cultists you find, and seek their hideout. Other than that, you may do as you please. Perhaps get back into the vigilante scene to spread our name. I will check on your activities twice a week, but for now, this is farewell.”

David saw the portal close, but still was frozen in fear at the sound of Tony saying his name. No, it wasn’t his name anymore. He could never go back to being Peter Parker. He had killed too many people, done too much damage. To make his point to himself, he grabbed another young Dawnflower cultist, and lifted him in the air by the throat. Tony dove from his hiding spot and landed behind another burned out vehicle. Lance ran up to him and put his hand on his shoulder.

“The fight’s over, Stark. We must leave.”

Tony jerked his shoulder, and yelled at him. “I’m not going anywhere!”

He then stood up tall and stuck out like a sore thumb among the dead bodies and wreckage. He knew Peter was here. That man in the black and gold costume had to be him. He moved too much like Spider-Man to be anyone else.

“Peter!” he shouted again.

From the smoke and wreckage, David emerged. He was still holding the same poor soul by the throat, and stepped into the middle of the street, his eyes were focused on one person, and one person only.

“Stark!” he screamed in rage, clutching his fist tighter around the victim's throat.

Lance charged at him, but David stood still. With his sword pointed straight outward, Lance tried to pierce through him, but David simply sidestepped at the last second, and threw the cultist into the way instead. Tony gasped, and shook a little at seeing who he swore was Peter intentionally throwing a man into his death. Lance fell to his knees and cried out, apologizing for killing his brother in the faith. David laughed and kicked the foolish knight, sending him flying into a brick wall. Tony was horrified. This couldn’t be Peter. He only sounded like him, and moved like him. He could be Peter,but he couldn’t be. His thoughts were scrambled as Tony felt his world turned upside down.

“Who are you?!” he shouted. “What do you want with me?!”

“Who I am is not of your concern.” David answered. “But know this, Tony Stark: I enjoyed tearing your precious Peter to shreds.”

Suddenly Tony found himself shaking with anger. “No.” he gritted through his teeth. “No I don’t believe it!”

David smiled from beneath the mask. “Even now, I wear his costume as my trophy. Look past the new paint job, and surely you’ll recognize it.”

Tony knew that those fibers were the same as the ones on the suit he gave Peter. That tiny spider that was attached to the front was still there, though blended in with the rest of the giant golden symbol on the chest.

“Where’s Peter?” Tony growled. “What did you do to Peter?!” He screamed and dove at the costumed freak.

David flicked him away, and knelt down in front of Tony’s face to deal him a finishing blow. This was it. Finally a chance at revenge. All it would take was one punch to send his former mentor’s brain matter spraying all over the street. Suddenly his chest began to ache, and his mind became clouded. He started feeling a sense of...compassion? What the hell?

 

 _No!_ He fought inwardly. _He needs to die! He betrayed me!_

_Don’t hurt him!_

_Tony Stark is a threat!_

_Mr. Stark means the world to me._

 

“Are you gonna kill me or just admire the view?” Tony quipped, spitting blood from his mouth.

David remained silent and jumped high into the air, leaping away from the destruction with his speed and acrobatics. Tony sat in defeat, and in a state of disbelief. Was Peter dead or wasn’t he? Who the hell are these Dawnflower people and what do they have against Lucius and his merry band of cultists? So much had happened too fast, and his mind was spinning. There was one he had to do, though. He needed to find Pepper, which meant following Sir Lancelot over there to wherever their hideout was.

Lance managed to peel himself from the wall, and yelled in pain as he fell to the ground. Tony rushed to his side and helped the young knight to his feet.

“We must get back to our hideout.” said Lance, weakly. “Your bride to be is there, and we must work together if we are to stop Lucius.”

Tony looked around and saw that only himself, Lance, and two others had survive the chaos. Lance was right. They needed to regroup, and with that costumed character easily ripping apart the suit, Tony had to admit that he might need some help. Lance reached into his armor and pulled out a scroll that Daniel the War Priest had written. He read the words aloud, which summoned another portal home. They all stepped into it and disappeared.

 

* * *

 

David sat high upon Statue of Liberty’s torch, and yanked his mask off. It was the middle of the night, and there was nobody around to see him cry. All of the old memories flowed back to him, hitting him like a hammer to the skull. He remembered all the times he would call Happy only be directed straight to voice mail, even when it was extremely important. He remembered Tony berating him, treating him like he was beneath the fancy billionaire just because he was poor and inexperienced. David felt his blood boil with rage.

 

_"No no no! STOP RIGHT THERE! This is where you stop talking, and listen. You're in a lot of trouble, young man!"_

He wouldn’t even let me explain myself.

 

“ _Ah ah! No ‘but’s, young man! You go and enjoy yourself. Take it from me: you’re only young once. Don’t let it swing by. End call.”_

As if he cared about me. He never cared before. Never even called to say "hi" or just visit.

 

“ _Previously on ‘Peter Screws the Pooch’ I tell you to stay away from this...”_

He was such an asshole that day on the Ferry. I tried. I really did.

 

“ _This is where you ZIP IT! The **adult** is talking.”_

So arrogant. So full of himself.

 

“ _If you’re nothing without that suit, then you shouldn’t have it.”_

 ** _He_** doesn't deserve it! So I destroyed his Iron Man suit, and I’ll do it again. And again, and again until they’re all scrap metal!

 

David screamed in rage with all of the air in his lungs. He would destroy Tony, regardless of whatever petty feelings his former self held for the pompous self-absorbed jerk. If Tony Stark was still alive, then he would torture him first, then destroy whatever fancy toys Stark would no doubt throw at him, and _then_ he would kill him, slowly.

“I hate you.” he whispered, as if Tony could hear him.

 

“I HATE YOU!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably be a little slower with the next update, bc I'm still processing a lot of family stuff that was going on. Some of it is that my Grandmother died, best friend dying, and also I now have a bad sinus infection. So I'll be probably in bed for a while. I actually wrote this while I still had a fever, because I hated not writing anything. So as you can see, David isn't exactly in a sound state of mind at the moment, and it only gets worse. Might have to change the rating. Idk. 
> 
> I hope you guys all liked it. See you soon. Ima go pass out for the next 12 hours. Bleh. I hate being sick.


	10. A Glimmer of Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony doesn't care about the stupid holy war between the two cults. They were both equally insane. He doesn't care about where they came from, or how they got here. All he wants is his son back.

_He’s alive._

David pounded his fist against the brick side of the building beside him, the snow fell gently across the night sky, its frigid air piercing to the bone. He let it pierce him through. No cold, no pain or frost bite he could possibly suffer was worse than what he was feeling right now. It was the middle of the night, and he was standing alone in a dark alley, but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered right now because─

_He’s still alive._

Sorrow. That was what he was feeling right now. All this time, Peter had cried and mourned over the death of his mentor. His father figure. He was too young to remember his parents, but Uncle Ben had always been there for him, right up until the day he was murdered. It was a murder that Peter could have easily prevented, but he was too weak, too petty to prevent it. He remembered holding his uncle’s lifeless body in his arms, the blood still warm and staining his hands and clothes. Perhaps that was a sign: a sign that everything that Peter held dear was doomed to be taken away from him. Everyone he loved would die, and it would always be _**his**_ fault.

David closed his eyes, his breath somehow visible in the frosty air even through his bone mask. The terrifying, demonic face carved on the surface made him look as if he crawled from the pit of Hell. Behind that terrible mask was a teenage boy at war with himself. In his mind, he found himself still as Peter standing frightened on the rooftop, his hands stretched out against the ever approaching Tony Stark. Then there was a blue light, a crackling noise, then an ear-piercing boom. The haunted look in his mentor’s dead eyes would always be burned in his memory.

_But he’s still alive._

A suspicious looking man in a hoodie was approaching him, but David was too wrapped in his own thoughts to care. He slumped his back against a dumpster behind him, bowing his head. Focus. He needed to focus, and shake these memories off. This wasn’t him, this was Peter. Peter the weakling. Peter the fool who got everyone he loved killed or in danger. The footsteps were getting closer. There was a sharp click as the perpetrator flashed a switchblade.

“Your money. Now.” the hooded figure demanded, his voice barely above a whisper.

David said nothing. He didn’t even acknowledge the man’s presence. His eyes aimed toward the ground, still lost inside his own mind. He was so still that the snow began to pile on his head and on top of his shoulders. It didn’t bother him. Not anymore. Tony was dead. That’s what the world believed. That’s what Peter believed. He mourned, he blamed himself. He killed himself and let David take over. That was the amount of pain, the sheer anguish that Peter had felt. And now, after all that Peter had done to bury himself in his grief, in his pain, his guilt ─ all that he had suffered internally for murdering his own father in cold blood— the bastard decides to wait until _**now** _ to spit it all back in his face.

 

_He’s. Still. Alive._

Sorrow turned into Anger. His body trembled, his blood boiling over with the thought that all of Peter’s pain was for nothing. Tony Stark never died. He never was killed after all, but in his absence the sorrow was too much for the young and innocent Peter Parker. In his anguish, Peter had mentally let himself die and be consumed with the more powerful side of himself that he never knew he had. David was there to pick up the pieces, to endure Lucius’s harsh punishments, and the beatings. It was David, not Peter who endured the remaining torture of being burned, frozen, scarred every practice trying to master even the most basic of the dark arts.

“Hey!” the armed man in the hood yelled at him. “I’m talking to you!”

David felt the jab of the switchblade poking at the outer lining of his new costume. He didn’t care. Without a single word, he snatched the man’s wrist and crushed it into a mangled mess. Silently, he grabbed the perpetrator’s head with both hands and twisted quickly. The loud snap that followed was enough for him to hear. Without a word, he gently laid the body to the ground, letting the snow do the burying. Then he slowly walked away into the streets, as if nothing had ever happened.

“It’s cold out here, Karen.” He said finally.

Karen didn’t respond. Was she disabled? David let out a sad chuckle. Of course she wouldn’t work. His original mask was mostly gone. Even if Karen were active, he couldn’t communicate with her. It seemed that in his time of need, when he needed to find food and shelter for the night, nobody would be there for him—Not even a damn AI. He ignored the frightened faces of the people around him, and pushed them aside as he kept walking onward toward no clear goal. Nobody in their right mind would dare mess with him, not after they saw him personally roast and slice through multiple people during the fight earlier. It had been broadcast all over the globe, apparently.

“Oh my God it’s him!” people whispered to each other.

“What is he?”

“Who is he?”

“Is he some kind of demon?”

A demon. David laughed out loud at that one.

“Yes.” he mused. “A demon. A creature of fire and brimstone.”

Apparently people only heard that last word. “Brimstone?!” one of the people exclaimed as a crowd gathered. They started taking videos and pictures of David, who stood menacingly underneath a street light. His hands were clenched in tight fists, and he began to relish in the attention that was being given to him. People called out his new name: “Brimstone, where are you from?”

“Can you really shoot fire, Brimstone?”

“Wanna crash at my place, Brimstone?!”

“No, Brimstone! Stay with me!”

“Brimstone.” said David, watching his new fans argue among themselves. “I...guess that could work.”

 

* * *

 

David woke up the next morning laying on a couch, covered in a stained and worn blanket. Turns out being famous had some perks to it. A dozen or so crazed fans – and they _were_ crazed beyond belief-- had offered for their new idol Brimstone to crash at their places for the night. Who would admire a costumed murderer who worshiped an evil deity? Apparently New York had plenty of people to fit the bill. Of course. The owner of this apartment was undoubtedly a slob. There were old pizza boxes scattered all over the place, and dirty clothes littered a corner of the living room. Empty soda bottles and candy wrappers littered the computer table positioned against the wall, and the entire place reeked of musk and rotting leftovers.

“Ugh. Gross.”

David leapt to his feet and headed for the door. Then another problem hit him. How was he going to eat, or walk around in daylight? He couldn’t wear his new black and gold suit all the time. There would come a point when he would need to clean it, or just try to blend in with the crowd.

“May.” he whispered to himself.

His old room might still have some clothing he could wear, and he did stash some money under his mattress as a “rainy day fund”. After all that had gone down in the past few months, the term “rainy day” was more than an understatement. David creaked open the door to his fan’s apartment and quietly ran out.

 

* * *

 

Tony held Pepper tightly in his arms, flashing a quick smile at Happy Hogan who was standing close by. They had been waiting for him in the abandoned church, while the blue and white robed mages answered most of their questions. From what Pepper had gathered, these cultists were at war with the other crazed madmen who showed up preaching about their god Asmodeus. They were from another realm, and had ended up here after a mass teleportation spell went wrong.

 

“There were hundreds of us on both sides.” said Daniel, the War Priest. “Our seers and finest wizards tried to seal the blasphemers away, while the rest of us held the line.”

“So what went wrong?” asked Happy, grinning at the two love birds he was proud to work for.

Tony noticed that Happy was watching and quickly broke off the embrace, giving him a death look. Happy silently chuckled and turned away. Even the smallest light moment helped against the gravity of their situation.

Daniel sat himself in an empty pew. “It seems Lucius and his blasphemers had the same idea. When both massive spells collided with each other, there was a big explosion. Then a blinding light. We woke up with what little remained of our forces, and found ourselves here in this strange civilization. “

He grimaced. “One of our mages tried to scout the area, but was ambushed by Lucius. He caught the blasphemer off-guard and managed to get a good strike in there, but then the filthy bastard ran. Our scout pursued, but was ambushed. When Lance found him the next morning...”

Lance shuddered as he tried to describe the sight. “His skull was fractured, but his jaw— Gods have mercy-- his jaw was completely shattered.” His body continued to shake, a cold chill fell down his spine. “Whatever was left of his mouth was kept from falling to the ground only by a sag of skin. But then I sensed the lingering of evil magic all around the body. I looked at the rest of him but- but… I can’t—Serenrae help me-- I can’t keep going.”

 

Suddenly, the light bulb flickered on in Tony’s head.

“And his body was covered in electrical burns.” Tony finished for him. “He was scorched.”

Lance’s eyes widened to nearly full circles. “How did you know?” He asked, surprised.

“Oh my God.” Tony said to himself. “He was innocent.”

He turned to Pepper. Her face said it all. She was just as shocked as her fiance. Tony paced back and forth, gripping his hair in self-hatred.

“Stupid, stupid, _**stupid!”**_ He let a low growl escape his throat. “How can you be so damn stupid, Tony?! Of _**course**_ he didn’t do it! He’s your kid and you just- I didn’t even-”

Pepper gently caressed his tensed shoulders. Tony cursed at himself and threw his arms down in an uncharacteristic display of emotional outburst.

“I didn’t even give him a chance to explain, Pep!”

“Oh, Tony.” Pepper tried to comfort him.

He shrugged her off, his body tense. Pepper watched with concern as his shoulders rose and fell along with his deep breaths. She knew it. He knew it.

“I screwed the pooch.” Tony tried to slow down his breathing. “I really screwed the pooch this time.”

Unfortunately, Happy was still clueless. “What do you mean, Tony?”

“Jesus Christ. I mean Spider-Man was innocent this whole time!” he exploded. “This entire time he’s been trying to tell me… trying to get me to just shut up for one minute and _**listen**_ **.** But no! I had to be a shitty parent. I had to keep running my mouth, running him away from me. I had to become a spitting image of my dad! And now look, Pep! He’s gone, and it’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”

 

Daniel looked upon these three non-believers with pity. Their dear friend had been taken by the Cult of Asmodeus. Who knows what sort of cruelty he was suffering at the filthy hands of those monsters? Lucius would pay dearly for the suffering he has caused in this world. The War Priest was about to stretch out his hand and offer a spell of soothing to be cast around the inconsolable Tony Stark.

 _But maybe--_ He thought. _Maybe this is a blessing in disguise._

Yes. He could let Tony seek vengeance for his fallen friend on his own. Daniel and his men wouldn’t have to do anything but follow him, while this stranger did all the work. Tony could find Lucius and his den. All the Dawnflower cultists needed to do was follow him in and unleash their holy wrath. Daniel retreated his hand, and remained silent for now. Why heal this man when he is more useful as a broken mess?

“Tony, don’t do this to yourself.” Pepper begged, embracing him tearfully. “Don’t blame yourself.”

Happy gave them a few moments to themselves. In the meantime, he pulled out his smartphone, trying to distract himself from his own guilt at the way he had treated Peter. He didn’t want to cry in front of his boss. This was _his_ time to cry, to grieve. Happy could do that any time he was at home or in the car alone. His news alerts were stacked to the top of his screen, about all kinds of world news and juicy Hollywood gossip. He swiped them off of his screen, but then there was one.

“ _Brutal Footage of NYC’s new costumed obsession!‘Brimstone’.”_

Curious, he opened the article and watched the video on mute. Of course it would be recorded from a cheap phone. The quality was about as good as a potato, but at least it was still watchable. There stood a young man in a black and gold costume, crushing a hoodlum’s wrist. Wait a minute, he realized. That wasn’t a man! That was a young teenager, about Peter’s height!

“Tony, you may want to take a look at this.” He said grimly, watching as “Brimstone” twisted the victim’s neck.

“Happy, can’t you see I’m busy?”

“I think I found Spider-Man.”

“What?”

Instantly Tony released Pepper and snatched the phone from Happy.

“Replay it.” Happy told him.

Tony watched, holding his breath. There was that same punk who fought him earlier. Brimstone? Really? That’s the best name people could come up with? Regardless, the footage didn’t lie. There was Brimstone, murdering a guy and leaving the body like it was no big deal. Again, Tony focused on his features. Brimstone’s height, physical figure, voice—It all matched Peter’s.

_There’s one way to be absolutely sure._

“FRIDAY, activate Karen.” he said, in a commanding voice.

“It looks like she was already activated, Boss.” she replied.

_Which means Brimstone’s wearing Peter’s suit._

“Get a lock on the suit’s location.”

“Already done. The suit’s heading to 43rd Street, in Queens.”

_Thank God that Peter didn’t disable the tracker this time._

Tony wasted no time in racing to the exit of the church. “Pepper, you and Happy get back to the compound. Stay there. Stay safe. I gotta go.”

“What? Why?” Pepper’s eyes could kill if they ever shot lasers.

He flung open the doors to the old church building, keeping his arms open wide as the pieces of another suit flew to him and assembled. It took only seconds to fully suit up, but it was still too long for Tony. He lowered his face plate, and faced Pepper with his glowing eyes.

“Because I still believe Spider-Man’s out there somewhere, and I intend to bring him home.”

Tony blasted off, and had FRIDAY direct as much energy as possible to his thrusters.

“Hold on, Peter. I’m coming.”

 

* * *

 

May wasn’t home. That was a good sign. David slowly opened the window to Peter’s room, and crept inside. His old canisters of webbing were probably in one of his drawers somewhere, but that wasn’t what he was after. He lifted the mattress and found only $200 underneath.

“Well, it’s better than nothing.” He whispered to himself.

Next was the closet. David searched for a couple pairs of his favorite outfits and shoes, shoving them in an old backpack he left laying from the year before. It barely zipped closed. David jumped out of the window and clinged to the next building. His new mode of transportation would have to be leaping from building to building. There was no chance of using his old web shooters. He was Brimstone, not Spider-Man. Where was he even going in the middle of the afternoon? Crime fighting? Where would he sleep? Surely he couldn’t keep couch surfing. It was way too risky, and his fan base was much scarier than he cared to admit.

He settled on stopping on top of a large bank on 48th Street. It was more than tall enough for him to remain unseen by any bystanders hundreds of feet below, and had plenty of room for him to change quickly without risk of falling over. David was about to get started when the sound of thrusters approaching him sent him into a panic. What was Tony doing here? Couldn’t he just leave him alone?

“Don’t move!” Tony shouted. “I can immobilize you if I have to.”

David kept his eyes on Tony as he landed in front of him. His fists heated up, and were already emitting heat. If Tony wanted a rematch, he’d be more than happy to oblige.

“What do you want, Stark?!” he spat.

Tony raised his face plate, wanting to look at this Brimstone character with his own eyes. He wanted to make it clear that he was coming as Tony Stark, not Iron Man.

“I just want to talk.”

David hissed angrily. “Why should I talk to you?! Why shouldn’t I just torch you? Right here, right now?!”

With a spiteful yell, he hurled the flames at Tony. The man didn’t flinch. Instead he released a freezing gas from the wrists of his suit that instantly extinguished the flames. “I’m not here to fight you, Brimstone.” His voice was more gentle this time. “I just need to know something.”

“I’m not telling you anything! I’ll kill you! Do you understand me, Stark?! I’ll kill you with my bare hands!” David’s body quivered with rage, his voice spewing with venom. “I’ll rip you apart, and I’ll enjoy every moment of it. Every one of your screams-”

David honed his vision on Tony with murder in his eyes. He took one step closer to his former mentor.

“Every bruise.”

Another step. Tony couldn’t will himself to speak.

“Every bone.”

He was inches away from Tony, who refused to be intimidated.

“So let me ask you a question, then.” Tony said calmly. He kept up his facade of looking totally unphased. “Who are you underneath that mask?”

 

David stood silent.

Tony continued. “Because you sound _exactly_ like a dear friend of mine, a kid that I loved very much. But I never told him because I was too busy with my head up my own ass. I never told him how proud I was of him, because I was too busy feeling proud of myself. I never told him how much he made my day every time I listened to Happy’s report on whatever it was he did for the day. It didn’t matter if it was helping an old lady cross the street, stopping a bank robbery, or getting a cat out of a tree, I wanted to hear about it. I loved him. I loved that kid. His name was Peter Parker, and I’m willing to be half of my company... and Happy...that _you’re_ him.”

Hate burned through David’s veins. He growled and violently grabbed the chest plates of the Iron Man armor, and whispered in a magical tongue. Tony was shocked to find that Brimstone’s fingers were burning through his armor as if they were covered in acid. As his fingers ate away at the portions they touched, Tony refrained from showing anything other than a stoic expression.

“Boss, he’s going to rip you apart!” FRIDAY warned.

Tony kept himself calm, and kept his eyes on Brimstone’s terrible face mask. Brimstone clawed his fingers deeper into the crimson chest plates and ripped them off with one motion. Tony staggered backward but still kept his focus on that black and gold costumed kid in front of him. No fighting. Not this time. He needed to know for sure. Could the monster before him really be his Peter Parker?

Brimstone slammed the pieces of armor to the ground, and waited for Stark to show some kind of reaction. Still nothing. No sign of fear, or concern. Did this guy really care about him or not, damn it?!

“I’ll tear your armor to pieces!” He yelled as he ripped off the shoulder and arm plates. “And you with it!”

He reached for Tony’s physical arms next, when Tony shook his head with firm resolve. “Rip me apart all you want. I’m not fighting you, Peter.”

A loud scream exploded from Brimstone’s throat, the runes on his mask glowing in blue.

“I’m not Peter Parker!” He cried out as if he were in pain. “Peter Parker is dead! I killed him! My name is Brimstone!”

“Not buying it! Try again!”

“My master gave me the name David! My name is David!”

“That’s not who you really are. That’s what Lucius wants you to believe.”

“I am not your pathetic Peter Parker!”

“Then take off your mask.” Tony demanded. “Show me!” his voice grew and quivered. “Show me you’re not Peter!”

Brimstone felt a twinge of pain in his heart. He felt that small voice of compassion again. It was that one tiny piece of himself that could not be extinguished, and it called for him to listen to Tony and just cry into his arms for peace. For that sense of paternal love and safety that Lucius failed to provide. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Tony’s expression. He looked like a father concerned for his son’s life.

_He cares about me._

Brimstone slowly reached his hands on to both sides of the bone cheeks on his face mask.

_He’ll bring me home._

The black hood fell from his head, setting his ears and hair free. Tony saw that the kid’s hair was jet black, with tiny signs of the original brown roots growing back.

_Help me._

Brimstone threw down the mask, and stared at Tony with his own eyes for the first time since he was Peter. That truly wasn’t an enemy in front of him. It was his mentor, wasn’t it? The man he wanted to call “father”.

_Mister Stark._

Tony let out a small gasp as he saw the kid unmasked. The shadows around his eyes were so dark, so full of anger. His irises were a burning yellow, with red around the outside. The kid truly looked as if he were possessed. But even without those brown puppy dog eyes, there was no longer a shred of doubt in Tony’s mind. This was Peter Parker.

“Peter.” His voice was soft and broken. There were so many question’s running through Tony’s mind., his first and foremost concern being why his kid had gone from “Friendly Neighborhood” to “Cold-Blooded Murderer”. That hate in his eyes, though-- it haunted Tony to his core, but he felt it was well-deserved. Tony exited what remained of his armor, and knelt in front of his kid. His _**son.**_

“Peter it’s me.”

Brimstone, no. David felt his grip on Peter slipping. For a moment, David’s vision faded to black. At the same time, Tony watched in amazement as David’s irises changed in color from yellow to brown. Tony’s gaze met his own, both keeping their eyes locked in a moment of tense silence.

“Mister Stark.” Peter’s lips were quivering. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

Tony's facade of complete self-control immediately shattered into pieces, and he wrapped his son in his arms. Peter clinged onto him for dear life, burying his tears into his father’s shoulder. He burst into a sobbing mess, but Tony only held him tighter, rocking him side to side.

“It’s okay, kid.” He choked through tears of his own. “It’s all going to be okay.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we see the reemergence of Peter Parker, but for how long? 
> 
> Thank you for your patience! I am feeling much better now (yay antibiotics!) and am back to writing. Will start writing the next part soon. For now, here's my longest chapter so far. Sorry I wrote it so long (for me it's long)! I just couldn't decide when to stop lol
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!


	11. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because Peter was removed from the environment that had warped him, did not mean that his pain was even close to being over. His old life still replays like a broken record inside his head, and the darkness of the Weave still calls for him. Can Tony ever really save him from himself?

Peter slept quietly in his bedroom—the one that Tony had personally oversaw construction of—so that it would be a perfect fit for the youngest member of the Avengers. Well, until the little spiderling turned him down. Tony kept the room clean and dust free anyway, knowing that one way or another, that kid was going to be an Avenger. His mind drifted away from the present, and into the memories of his other self. He felt the safety of Tony’s home leave him, being drowned out by the constant state of fear at Lucius’s compound. Peter’s body was paralyzed, and he quickly succumbed to the memories resurfacing as he fell back into deep sleep.

 

* * *

 

“It’s okay, David.” Adrian smiled at him, his frail body still trying to hold his best friend upright after another beating in training. That day was particularly rough. David still could not master a single spell yet, and was still struggling to cement himself into his new identity. Despite his outright failure at being a mage so far, David was glad to have at least one friend that he could count on. Adrian led his new friend to his room, decorated with posters from various anime and sci-fi series. David looked at them all, feeling a wave of nostalgia sweep him over.

“Here.” Adrian handed him a small vial. “It’s a healing potion. I made it myself.”

David shot him a perplexed look. “Potion? You make potions?”

“I have to be good at _something_ around here.”

Adrian let out a small laugh, and dug around his dresser for something. David popped the cork from the vial and drank the strange liquid. He gagged at its awful taste, but its immediate results on his body were undeniable. His bruises healed quicker than even his healing factor would have. His energy returned to his body, and he felt as clear headed as if he actually had a good night’s sleep. As David stared at the Star Wars poster on the wall, he felt a small knot form in his throat.

“You like Star Wars.” he croaked. “So who shot first?”

Adrian smirked. “Han, of course. Who’s your favorite bounty hunter?”

“IG-88.”

“Cad Bane.”

David smiled, and felt a small glimmer of kindness emerge from within. “Favorite droid?”

“Ooh that’s a tough one.” said Adrian, a bright beaming grin spreading across his face. “I think I’ll go with HK-47. From the old KOTOR games.”

“Yeah, I remember him.” David felt his eyes well up. This puny little blonde runt was so much like Ned. He missed Ned so much right now. He missed his old life. Aunt May, Ned, MJ, heck even Flash was more preferable than this hell hole he was living in now.

He swallowed hard to stop his emotions from bleeding through. “R5-D4. That one’s my favorite.”

Adrian scoffed. “What? That old junker? Why that one? He doesn’t even do anything except break down in Episode IV.”

David’s voice lightened, becoming more bubbly and friendly. “Yeah, but that’s the point.”

This was Peter bleeding through, and David knew it. He tried fighting, but the warmth that came with the knowledge that he was not alone was just too comforting to ignore. David loosened his mental grip, feeling Peter’s kindness seep through.

“See, if R5-D4 never broke down on Tatooine--” he said with enthusiasm. “Then Luke would never have met R2-D2. He never would have met Obi-Wan, never become a Jedi. He’d just be stuck on a moisture farm for the rest of his life.”

 

“Wow.” said Adrian. “I never thought of it like that. So was there ever someone in _your_ life like that, David? I mean, other than the Arch Mage?”

A long sigh escaped from David’s lips, and he sat on the floor to think. He didn’t want to show Adrian who he really was, or give off the impression that he was a sentimental weakling, especially with the Cult of Asmodeus’ lessons of utilizing hatred and aggression being drilled into them every day. Most, if not all, of the student mages were already indoctrinated fully. Fully programmed. It was surprising to David, then—that Adrian sat down on the floor right next to him, his eyes fully attentive. How could such kindness still exist in a world that thrived on hate?

“Yeah, there was.” David finally answered. “I never really had a father, but there was this one guy who kind of filled the role. He was so cool, so fearless. Whenever there was a problem, he solved it—and when there was no solution, he _**invented**_ one. I wanted to be like him. I wanted to make him so proud of me.”

“Yeah? What happened to him?”

David gulped, squeezing his eyes shut to stop a tear from forming. “He died. But I’ll never forget how much he changed my life. If I never met him, then I’d never be here. I’d never be--” He caught himself before revealing his secret identity like an idiot.

Adrian put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, mistaking his sudden pause as a sign of grief. “Dude. I’m so sorry, man.”

“No, it’s fine. What about you?”

“Yeah. For me it was a superhero. He’s a pretty new one, but he was so cool.”

David raised a curious eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Totally. But, he died too.” Adrian lamented, hanging his head. “The Arch-Mage killed him.”

 

_He’s dead. Spider-Man is dead. Peter is dead._

_No, not yet._

 

The environment burned away like paper thrown into a bonfire. There was nothing left but complete blackness. He felt himself beginning to hyperventilate, but his body still refused to budge.

 

_Adrian!_

 

What ever happened to his friend after the portal closed? Peter hoped that he would be alright. Maybe he would be promoted to being Lucius’s personal bodyguard or something where he would be safe. What about his other friends? He had seen some of them die in the fight against those Dawnflower cultists. Their lives were probably just as mundane and unfulfilling as his own—minus the web-swinging— until Lucius got his claws into them and twisted them.

 

_Lucius saved you. He gave you power._

_No. He took my life away._

_He gave you a new life._

 

“No.” Peter muttered in his sleep. “No!”

 

Standing just outside his bedroom was Tony, his arms crossed as he observed the poor kid. He rushed to Peter’s side and gently shook him, repeating his name with urgency.

“Wake up, Peter.” His voice was filled with concern. “Come on kid, wake up.”

Peter’s eyes flung open wide and he shot upright with a loud terrified scream. Tony barely dodged what would have been the most painful headbutt of his life, and knelt at the bedside.

“I’m Peter. I’m Peter. I’m Peter. I’m Peter.” the boy repeated in a frenzied state, staring blankly into space.

Tony tried to gently shush him, and wrapped an arm around the kid’s trembling shoulders. “Breathe, kid. Breathe. Take it slow.”

“My name’s Peter. It’s not David, I’m not David.” He kept saying, rocking back and forth.

“That’s right, you’re Peter Parker. You’re a good kid.” Tony whispered softly. “I don’t know what Lucius did to you, but you can tell me on your own time, okay? I’m not going anywhere, kid.”

Peter took in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. He stopped rocking and looked at his mentor with wide, teary eyes. “Mr. Stark. It’s really you.”

“Oh, kid.” Tony pulled him in for a hug. He held his son tight in his arms, letting the old internalized _“Stark men are made of iron_ ” mentality from Howard melt away. This was his second chance at being there Peter. He wasn’t going to without any affection from the kid again. This kid was going to know how much he was loved, even if drove his little spiderling up the walls.

“Kid, I’m always going to be here. Always.”

FRIDAY took this as the perfect opportunity to chime in. “Boss, Ms. Potts would like you two to come to the dining room for breakfast.”

“Thanks, FRI. We’ll be there in a minute.” Tony ruffled the kid’s black and brown hair. “Come on, kid. Let’s eat.”

“Sure thing. Lemme get dressed.”

 

It took no time at all for Peter to come running to the table, fully clothed in an outfit he grabbed from the closet back at May’s apartment. He sat next to Tony and dug into a fully prepared plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and tons of pancakes. Pepper smiled and snapped a quick picture of the two grinning at each other, their cheeks stuffed with food. They looked like a pair of overgrown chipmunks. She took the seat next to Peter, so that the kid was surrounded on both sides with love and support. Both she and Tony knew that he had gone through a lot, not just with Lucius, but in general. She couldn’t wait for him to tell Peter that he was innocent on the night he broke the man’s jaw, and that Lucius was only manipulating him. She wasn’t quite sure what Peter meant when she overheard him saying “I’m Peter.” over and over. One thing was certain. Lucius had hurt their kid, and he would pay dearly for it. She was already reviewing the footage from the Spider-Man suit. Thankfully it had all been uploaded to their own database so that even if the suit were tampered with, the evidence would still remain. Tony stayed up all night watching it, holding Pepper tightly while swearing obscenities at the old monster who had poisoned Peter’s mind.

 

“Hey, after this what do you say we go tinker in the lab for a bit?” said Tony, his mouth half full.

Peter swallowed a huge mouthful of pancakes. “That’d be great!”

He sprinted from the table and ran straight for the lab, and Tony ran after him. “Head start! That’s not fair, you little cheater!”

Pepper smiled at them, even though they had left her to clean up the dirty dishes. “Good luck, Tony.” she whispered.

 

* * *

 

Almost entirely out of instinct, Peter broke into a fighting stance inside the lab, his gaze never leaving his target.

“Come at me, DUM-E!” he said, enthused. “Show me what you got!”

Tony was confused as he entered the lab. “Kid, I don’t think DUM-E is exactly fighting material.”

The little robot prepared a fire extinguisher as Peter’s hands warmed up. Tony felt his heart skip a beat.

“Wait!”

It was too late. In seconds, fire escaped the kid’s hands. But DUM-E soon unleashed a spell of his own: the all-powerful might of fire safety. Peter was covered in a cloud of white, coughing as Tony shooed the robot away.

“Peter, are you okay?”

He was relieved to hear the sound of childlike laughter, and to see the smile on his kid’s face.

“Sorry.” Peter said. “When I was with Lucius, our lab was mostly just magical combat.”

“No problem, kid. Just, whenever you’re ready to talk about it...”

“I do. I need to, before Brimstone—I mean David-- I mean- Oh man. Who am I?” He started to break down.

“Shh shh. Slow down.” Tony soothed. “It’s okay.”

Peter let out a small sob. “He’ll take me over again. Mr. Stark I feel like I’m being torn in half. There’s another part of me, another _me_ in there. And I’m scared he’ll come back out.”

He saw the look of confusion on Tony’s face, and who could blame him? How on earth was Peter going to explain to Mr. Stark that this was more than just an angsty phase? That this was more than just having a dark side to himself? He was two people in one, and he didn’t know why. Tony ran his hands down his face, trying to think of what to say to the kid.

 

“So, I’m assuming that this... _other you_ , is named David?” He asked.

Peter swallowed hard, and kept his eyes downward in embarrassment. “Yeah. B-but it’s not like a mental illness kind of thing or anything. At least I don’t think. It just-- I don’t even know when it started. I know I started feeling different after I killed that man-”

“You didn’t kill him.” Tony interrupted, fixing his gaze on Peter. “Look at me.”

Peter obeyed. “What?”

“I know what happened now. You didn’t kill that man. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I did.” his voice broke. “I killed him. I punched him, remember?”

“You punched him, but you didn’t _scorch_ him.”

Peter’s jaw dropped. He stared wide eyed at Tony. Could it really be true? Was he innocent this whole time?

“But Lucius said that I did kill him.” He let out a small “hmph”, and furrowed his brow. “He deserved it, too. He was weak. He-he needed to die. Just like I do.”

Tony’s heart dropped, seeing the poison that was still inside Peter’s mind.

“No Peter!” He struggled not to lash out in frustration. He wanted to just make it all go away. “Lucius _lied_ to you, Peter. _**He**_ killed that man. Not you.”

“What?”

“You didn’t kill him. You didn’t even kill _me_.”

Peter felt the crushing weight of his own guilt being lifted off of him.

“Kid, you never killed _anyone_. There’s nothing to run from, nothing to hide from. You’re safe now.”

 

_Safe._

 

Peter let that word repeat itself in his mind, remembering his friends, remembering May. He had left so many people behind, just trying to save himself from something he didn’t even do. Stupid. He felt so stupid for what he did. His shame turned into anger on instinct. He heard that same menacing voice speaking inside his head again.

 

_Use your anger. Let it flow through you, guide you. Will you really betray the man who took you under his wing when you were broken and helpless? Will you abandon your friend, Adrian? Will you abandon your new family, just as Mr. Stark abandoned you?_

 

Tony flinched as he heard Peter suddenly yell in pain and grip his own hair. What was going on?

“Peter?”

A growl. Peter shot his head upward and locked his sights on Tony.

 

_He only treats you nicely now because you’re a threat to him. You’re nothing to him! Nothing!_

 

“No!” Peter screamed at the ceiling. “Get out of my head! I’m not listening!”

“Stay with me, kid!” Tony rushed to him, trying not to panic as Peter bared his teeth and snarled at him like a rabid animal.

 

_He lied to you. Faked his own death just so that he wouldn’t be around you anymore._

 

Peter jumped back to create a good distance between them. “Why did you fake your death?! I mourned for you! I cried for you! And then what?! You just pop out of a hole in the ground after I’ve been put through hell!”

“It’s not like that! I was saved by a bunch of magical zealots who then put me in suspended animation! Believe me, I was furious when I found out that I had been out for a month!”

Peter blinked. “You expect me to believe that? Wait... _Zealots_?”

“Oh shit.” Tony said mentally.

 

_A war is coming. Your friends will die, killed by the Dawnflower and their pathetic cult. All because you weren’t there to save them….“Hero”._

 

“The Cult of the Dawnflower.” Peter spat bitterly. “No wonder you chose to reappear _now._ You wanted to lure us into a false sense of security, and then try to catch us off guard.” Tony shuddered when Peter burst out into a maniacal laughter. “But we crushed you anyway! I personally snuffed out a least three of your worthless friends.”

“Peter...”

“You were working with them from the beginning, weren’t you?!”

“No! Kid, they may have saved my life, but I have _nothing_ to do with them! I don’t even know why they saved me in the first place!”

“Liar!” Peter screamed. “You know damn well that Lucius is afraid of you! Do you think we’re that stupid? To not know that you could track us and find our home? That you have the power to single-handedly reduce us to ashes? Your self-righteous friends saved you because they find you useful. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

Tony stood speechless, but Peter still had more to say.

“You sided with those Dawnflower cultists from the start, and that’s why you faked your death and disappeared for a month. To make me suffer, and to make my family complacent. Asmodeus damn you, Tony Stark. Damn you for the pain that you put me through!”

Fire coursed through Peter’s veins. Tony stood in awe as he watched the color in Peter’s brown eyes fade away as a hint of yellow bled through. It didn’t take much more for him to realize that those yellow eyes probably belonged to Peter’s other self.

“Hate!” He roared as he pushed Tony away. “Hate you!”

 

_Do what must be done, Peter. Do what you were meant to do—what is best for your **true** family._

 

Tony’s heart was racing, his face full of fear for the sanity of his son. “No, Peter!”

He grabbed Peter with both of his arms, and held on tight. “Come back to me!”

 

_I need to stay._

 

_You need to leave. Look at the pain you’re causing right now._

 

There wasn’t a moment to lose. An idea sparked in Tony’s mind, and he acted on it.

“FRIDAY, call Ned Leeds! Now!”

“On it!” she replied.

Tony turned Peter toward the screen that appeared in front of them. There was a rather goofy picture of the kid’s best friend, and an incredibly annoying yodeling blared from every speaker in the lab. Tony could only guess that such a ludicrous, obnoxious, childish thing would be their ring tone. The phone rang only twice before a voice answered on the other side.

“Hello?”

At the sound of Ned’s voice, Peter froze.

“Hi Ned. It’s Tony Stark.”

He winced as Ned squealed like a girl on the other line. Jeez that kid had a set of lungs on him.

“Oh my God! Hey! What’s up?! How’s Peter? Do you need anything involving you-know-what?!”

“Well, sort of. Look, I don’t have time to really explain but just… I have Pete here with me and I think he just needed to hear you for a while. Kid’s got a big mission ahead of him, and I think he needs the guy in the chair to give him a pick-me-up. Know what I mean?”

Ned was as enthusiastic as ever. “Y-Yes sire! I mean sir! No problem, sir!”

Tony watched Peter’s eyes soften and return to their original color as he heard Ned’s voice. “Ned...”

“Hey, Pete! Congratulations on your big mission!”

“Um. Thanks, I think?” He had no idea what “mission” they were talking about. He was just happy to hear his best friend’s voice again. “How’ve you been, man?”

 

Peter’s eyes returned fully to normal, his shoulders loosened, and he looked calm again. Tony breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He had hoped that by bringing Ned into the picture would help keep Peter grounded, and stop this “David” personality—or whatever the hell it was-- from taking over again. He had to wonder how much of this was mental illness, and how much was magic. Lucius must have really messed with the kid’s psyche. Tony couldn’t wait to get his metal hands around that bastard’s throat. Nobody would touch his kid and get away with it.

 

“Dude it sucks!” Ned whined. “All we do is see nature stuff. I can’t wait to come back.”

Peter laughed. “Dang, that sucks. I’ve just been doing the usual stuff. But Mr. Stark’s been keeping me company while you guys are all out of town so it’s cool.”

“So lucky! Hey, before you go on your big mission, send me a selfie of you two. It’d be cool for my desktop wallpaper.”

“Okay.” Peter smiled and held out his hand toward his mentor and father.

Tony huffed and rolled his eyes, pretending that a father-son picture was too lame for the likes of him. “Alright but make it quick.”

Peter squished the two of them together and made the most ridiculous face that Tony had ever seen.

“Say cheese!” FRIDAY said.

Tony managed to burst into a laugh just as FRIDAY snapped the picture and sent it to Ned’s phone.

“Oh, no. You didn’t, FRI.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny anything.” She said with a sassy tone.

Ned burst out laughing, and sent the photo to Peter’s new phone which was laying on the workbench. Tony decided that an iPhone 3 was too ancient and made the decision to upgrade the kid’s phone to the latest model. Unfortunately, he never had the chance to give his present to the kid. Peter’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw his new smartphone, attached with a bow, and a little tag that read: “Merry Christmas, Underoos.”

Peter reached for the phone and grabbed it slowly. He felt his sense of awareness return to him, and tried to keep himself grounded in reality. The evil voice was fading away. He looked at the picture on his phone and also burst into laughter. Tony’s face turned red as FRIDAY then displayed the silly photo and enlarged it. He smiled at seeing Peter’s happiness again, wishing that he could just keep him like this forever.

“Hey, man.” said Ned. “I gotta go soon, but before I do, I wanna tell you something. I wanna wish you good luck on your mission. If anyone can do it, it’s you man! You got this! You got Mr. Stark, you got me! You ever need the guy in the chair to work his magic, you just say the word. Alright?”

Peter smiled. “Yeah. Thanks man.”

The call ended, and Peter turned to Tony with tears of joy streaming down his cheeks.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t mention it, kid.” Tony soothed. “You might have rough days. We may see your other self come out, but we’ll also be there for you. Remember that, Pete. Remember that.”

 

“ _We’ll also be there for you.”_ His mentor’s words echoed in his mind, until another sinister voice whispered to him.

 

_And so will I._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can Peter ever truly be himself again?


	12. Just Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony continues trying to be there for Peter, but this was so unlike anything he had ever dealt with. Inventions wouldn't fix this one...or could they? Tony wondered.

 

Tony had FRIDAY on monitoring duty in Peter’s room, recording his every sound and movement in case his other self decided to come back again. He had to admit, he didn’t really understand it. But that wasn’t as important as trying to be there for him, even if this was a problem that a metal suit and some fancy gadgets couldn’t fix. Unless…

 

_BARF._ He thought for a second. 

 

He could use BARF—Good lord, he needed a better name—to help Peter work through the trauma he had experience at the hands of Lucius. Plus, it would give Tony a chance to see what the poor kid had gone through, and maybe even help pinpoint the location of the crazed bastard’s lair. It had been a while since Iron Man had personally turned a group of complete scumbags into a smoldering hole in the ground. But he knew that Peter would never allow any of it. Peter would never agree to let him inside his head, in any way, shape or form. Peter would also not approve of any kind of violent revenge against Lucius, no matter how badly he had hurt him. Still, he had to try and get  Peter to open up. 

 

In his new bedroom, Peter was curled up in a ball underneath the sheets. His mind was flooded with memories of the beatings and magical fighting that he was forced to endure in the name of growing into a stronger and better person. Even though he was safe in Tony’s place, he still feared that Lucius could grab him at any moment. What would he do if his “father” were to see him like this? Especially without his new suit? In fact, where  _was_ that suit anyway? Peter threw the sheets off of him and searched his backpack. It wasn’t there anymore. Obviously, Tony had taken it and hidden it away.  Was he going to destroy it?

 

_I told you he hates you. He fears you. Fears **us.**_

 

“Father made me that suit.” Peter whispered to himself. “Father...”

 

_**Lucius.** _

 

“No.” He tried to shake off the voice again, and felt a strange force trying to pull at him. “What is this? Who’s there?!”

 

_I never left, Peter._

 

It was his other self again. Only Tony wasn’t here this time to save him.

 

_Brimstone calls for you. Adrian calls for you. Your family needs you._

 

“I can’t fight it.” He said weakly, collapsing on his knees. “I’m so tired. So tired.”

“David!”

Peter’s head shot up like a deer in headlights. Somehow, Adrian was standing right in front of him. He didn’t even set off any alarms. How in the heck did he get inside?

“David, have you abandoned me too?” Adrian’s voice was trembling with sorrow. “After all we’ve been through together? Are you leaving me to die when the conflict begins?”

“No! Adrian!” Peter reached out to him.

“You were my friend!” Adrian turned to walk away. “And now I’m going to die because of you!”

Peter watched his friend phase through the door to his bedroom. He quickly sprang to his feet to follow him.

“I would never abandon you! You were my best friend in there!”

Adrian scoffed and walked towards the  living room area, eyeing the table where Earth’s Mightiest Heroes once sat together. Peter followed him, speechless. His friend ignored him, and headed down the stairs to an elevator on the ground floor. 

“Adrian, what are you doing here?” Peter whispered to him.

He didn’t say a word. Adrian pressed the lower button on the wall, and stepped inside the elevator alone. Peter stared as his friend turned around, looking at him with such sadness in his eyes.

“Come back.” His voice was slightly louder this time.

The doors closed and the elevator hummed as Peter heard it descending into the basement below their feet. Why on earth would Adrian go there? He wondered. There was only one way to find out. Peter followed behind his friend and took the next elevator to the basement, unaware that FRIDAY was recording his every move, and had already silently alerted Mr. Stark. Inside the tiny space, Peter fought the urge to panic from being in such a cramped area, as it reminded him of being crushed under a falling building. The doors couldn’t have opened any quicker. As they slid open, Peter bolted out and found himself taking deep breaths as if he had been underwater.

The environment around him was d imly lit , cold, and completely quiet.  A lone orb-like object was sitting at the back of the room, near the edge of what looked to be a stage for some kind of home environment. There were solid objects that resembled actual things that one would find in a house, such as lamps, chairs, even a piano.  Each shape sat in a pile in the corner,  completely without detail and gray in color. Peter could only guess that this orb acted as some kind of projector. He had no idea that he was looking at Tony’s experimentation with BARF. All he knew was that h e was all alone, save for Adrian who was waiting for him with a cold stare. Peter ran to him, but only found himself phasing through. 

 

“What?!” he gasped. “Adrian, what are you-”

 

Adrian only grinned devilishly  and pointed to a metal suitcase that was laying on the floor next to his feet. 

“We need you, David.” he said before fading into vapor before Peter’s eyes. “Come back to us.”

Peter’s hands trembled. He knew what was in that suitcase, but he didn’t know why. His hands slowly crept onto the lock that was keeping its contents hidden, and with almost no effort, the fingers pried the metal open to reveal the contents inside.

“Brimstone.” He gasped.

Surely enough, there was his old suit. Attached to it was a small post-it note that read: “Dispose, or keep for therapy purposes?”

“Therapy?”

Peter couldn’t believe it. He didn’t need therapy! He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t some weak kid who couldn’t handle anything on his own. This was demeaning. It was insulting! To think that Mr. Stark actually cared about him! Peter felt his anger boil once more. He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t weak. Mr. Stark should trust that he could handle this on his own, or maybe this “therapy” was really some kind of brainwashing.

“Peter, what are you doing?” echoed a voice of concern.

He didn’t even acknowledge Tony approaching him from behind. Instead he let a hiss escape from his lips.

Tony froze. He saw Peter was on the edge once agai n, and what was worse—he had that god awful suit in his arms. 

 

“Don’t do it, kid.” he said sternly. “Put it down. I can explain this.”

“You were going to send me to therapy! As if I were crazy!” Peter exploded.

Tony stepped cautiously towards him, placing his hand to try and snatch the suit whenever he had the opportunity. He couldn’t let Peter disappear again.

“Stay back!” Peter spat angrily. “You were going to brainwash me, weren’t you?!”

“Kid, no. That’s not it at all.”

He kept advancing, never taking his eyes off of Peter even as he turned around to face him with anger in his heart.

“You fear me. You hate me!”

What Tony saw next was the eyes of his son, the kid who meant the world to him, changing in color. Those big, brown puppy dog eyes were gone- overtaken by a fierce yellow and red blaze of hatred. The shadows around Peter’s eyes grew darker, and before he knew it, Peter said four chilling words that made his heart stop.

“I am not Peter.”

Tony swallowed hard. He didn’t know what to say to this. What _was_ this?!

Peter slammed his mentor with his shoulder, sending him flying back toward the elevator with enough force to knock him out cold.

“I am David, and I will kill you here. Now.”

He was surprised to see Tony open his eyes, and form a suit out of seemingly nowhere. David guessed that it must be some kind of nanotech. Iron Man let out a pained groan as he rose slowly to his feet, face to face with David.

“No. You won’t.” he said calmly. “Because you can’t. Enough of this, Peter. Drop the suit.”

A ball of flame was his reply. Iron Man shielded himself in time to protect himself from the fiery explosion. Without a word, David delivered a powerful sucker punch to the armor’s stomach, and forcefully ripped the back of the armor off.

“You want Peter?!” he roared, continuing to rip the armor off of Tony with ease. He was too fast for Tony to even retaliate, and his punches had little to no effect. Perhaps he was wrong back then, when he told the kid that Steve could have beaten him in a fight. Peter always held back for the safety of others, but this David didn’t seem to care. Now, as the last of his armor was painfully ripped off of his arms, he was witnessing the kid’s raw power. And it was terrifying.

“Peter, stop.” Tony begged. “Think about what you’re doing! This isn’t you!”

David only laughed in his face. “Fight me without your toys, tin man.”

“No. I’m not fighting you. You need to stop this Pete--” His words were literally caught in his throat. The kid grabbed him by the neck and started squeezing his fingers, forcing the life out of him. His eyes burned in panic as David lifted him into the air, laughing while Tony was trying to kick and punch himself free.

“So, I see you’re completely useless without all of your toys.”

Peter’s voice was full of bitterness. Tony didn’t care if it really was David that he was speaking to right now. He knew that somewhere in there, Peter was fighting. He just needed to find a way to set him free. Tony struggled to make a sound, and the edge of his vision was starting to fade. David only squeezed tighter.

“You see, Tony...” He paused to relish in his mentor’s frightened movements and facial expressions. Glorious. “Even without my suit, I can still kill you. I can still stop cars and leap from building to building. But you!”

His breathing became heavier, and the kid’s body was shaking with anger. A loud yell escaped from his throat as he released his grip. Tony gasped loudly for precious air, his widened eyes were nearly full circles at this point. Any longer, and he might not have made it. What made the kid release his grip?

 

“Father!” the kid yelled toward the ceiling. “Is that you?!”

 

Tony looked around but saw nothing. He focused his attention back at David, and kept quiet. If he was going to try and understand what Peter was talking about, he needed to observe.

 

“ _My son. Where are you?”_ Lucius spoke telepathically to David.

“I’m with Tony Stark, Father.” he replied. “I’m going to kill him, if it pleases you as it does me.”

Tony noticed that David certainly spoke a bit...differently than Peter did, and it sort of reminded him of those zealots he got away from earlier.

“ _As much as I would love to see his corpse decorate our sanctuary, I have other plans for him.”_ said Lucius. “ _I assume that Peter has resurfaced, and that Stark has taken him in?”_

“Yes, Father. Tony says that he was saved by the Dawnflower cultists.”

“ _Is that so?”_ Lucius paused. This was an opportunity in the making. _“In that case, spare him.”_

“What?!”

Meanwhile Tony was looking gravely concerned for the sanity of Peter. In his eyes, the kid was talking to thin air. But now was his chance. As his kid was distracted by something in the ceiling, Tony slowly sneaked toward the orb-shaped projector. BARF had been improved to the point where glasses were no longer needed for it to function, thankfully. Now he just needed to wait.

“ _Yes. Spare him, and let your pathetic Peter take the reigns for now. Gain Tony Stark’s trust. Let him lower his guard, and reveal the location of the Cult of the Dawnflower. Then, my son, resurface and wipe them out.”_

David smiled with an evil grin that made Tony’s hair stand on end. It was a brilliant plan, and all he would have to do is play Peter. Put on another mask. Pretend that he was okay and that everything was going to be rainbows and unicorns for a while. That seemed easy enough.

“As you wish.”

“ _Good. Now I must take my leave. I will check in again when I deem it necessary. For now, farewell.”_

Tony just stood there confused. Who was he talking to? Did the kid really go insane?

“I will kill you.” David spat through his teeth. “Just like I will eventually kill Peter. Permanentely.”

“You managed to be wrong twice in a row.” said Tony, hiding behind a stone cold expression. “I’m impressed.”

 

He flipped a hidden switch beneath the projector and in a the blink of an eye, the area behind him seemed to transform into Peter’s old bedroom. David gasped, and looked on in awe. A flood of memories overcame him, and he felt the hate brewing while also trying to melt away. Aunt May must be worried sick about him, he realized. He still had friends and a life, a good future, and a good father figure. This was his home, not the compound where Lucius was training him. It was here that he felt safe and cared for. Tony continued to study Peter’s reaction to seeing familiar things, and noticed that David was struggling to move, as if he was short circuiting almost. Perhaps there was a mental conflict between this David persona and Peter. Tony made sure to make a mental note of that.

“This is...” David’s voice faltered. “This means nothing.”

“Oh, really?” Tony said unconvinced. “I guess that means I can finally rip that Mets banner from your real bedroom wall then.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Or how about that AT-AT figure on your shelf?”

“You won’t lay a finger on it! That was a gift from...”

He couldn’t finish. Tony knew this, and prodded him further. “From who? Definitely not from me. I’d buy you a bigger one.”

“Uncle.”

Tony nodded. “Okay, we’re getting warmer. Keep going. Does this Uncle have a name?”

“Ben. Uncle Ben.”

Peter’s eyes faded to brown. Whether David purposefully released his control or not was something that Tony couldn’t guess, but for now he was just happy to have his kid back again. He sighed in relief.

“Mr. Stark.” Peter gasped as he saw the damage the he had caused. “Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

Tony’s face never changed. “I know, kid.”

Peter noticed the finger shaped bruises on Tony’s throat. Oh God, he had tried to kill him! This was too much. He was too dangerous. Too dangerous to be left alive. He was just hurting everybody.

“I did this!” he shouted in horror. “I hurt you! I destroyed your suit!”

“Kid, it wasn’t you. I understand now. That wasn’t you. Okay?”

That wasn’t good enough. It never was. Nothing was.

“But they were _**my hands!**_ ”

“Peter.” Tony kept his voice low, and shut off the projector. “It’s going to be okay.”

Honestly, Tony wasn’t sure what the hell he needed to do other than call someone to set Peter up with a counselor. But who could he call? Sam ran off with Steve, and Dr. Cho was a geneticist not a psychologist. What about his own personal therapist? No. This was Spider-Man. He still had a secret identity. Still, it was all he could think of at the moment, but he would have to have a long talk to make sure that no matter what happened, Peter’s identity would still be safe. There was a lot of planning to do, but for the meantime, BARF would have to suffice.

 

“They were your hands, Pete.” Tony placed a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder. “But not _your_ mind.”

In retrospect, he was starting to feel bad for the way he had treated Bucky. Was this what it was like? To just see what you were doing, or dream of what you had already done, knowing that you could do nothing to stop it?

“Kid. I owe you an explanation. I was going to ask if you’d be willing to try using this little invention of mine, BARF, to work through what all you’ve been going through. Will you do that for me? Will you do that _with_ me?”

Peter shook his head in confusion. “I don’t understand. You-you want me to puke?”

Tony laughed. “No, kid. Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing. It’s a bad name, I know. I’m working on a different title, but it’s something I made for my own therapy reasons.”

“Oh. So, that note about using my suit with therapy was-”

“Was this. I just want you to try it. If you don't like it, that's fine. We'll think of something else. But for now, Pete, I am asking you. Just try it.”

Peter felt so stupid. He had nearly killed the closest thing he had to a father, all because he was too scared to admit he needed help. Too scared to stop and just think. Just listen to Mr. Stark for once. No more. He had to swallow his pride and admit it. He couldn’t overcome David alone. He couldn’t fully deprogram himself. He needed help, and despite being nearly killed by his own protege—twice-- Tony was still there to offer his hand. How could he refuse?

“Okay, Mr. Stark. I’ll do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the lack of updates. I work long and overtime hours at my new job and was too exhausted to write. I will continue to update, though! They just won't be as frequent as they were. Sorry!


	13. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter begins his mental and emotional journey with BARF, with Tony right beside him every step of the way. While Peter is taking time to heal, the fighting between the two cults was beginning to heat up. But one of Daniel's zealots starts to have doubts.

Peter knelt into the cold snow with a bowed head, looking down at the body of Tony Stark laying in his arms. He felt the pain build up inside him and broke down in tears. He had tried to forget that night, and the urge to just break for the door and run away seemed to nearly win out over his determination to stay and relive the event. The only thing that stopped him was looking at the real Tony in front of him, standing by the projector. He had his arms crossed, and he was clenching his jaw. It looked like he didn’t seem ready to see his own near death experience again.

“And that’s the last thing I remember until I woke up, Peter.” he said. “Honest to God.”

Peter nodded his head. He had actually been standing close beside Tony the whole time, watching his holoprojeted self reenact the painful recent events.

“I believe you. I’m just—I’m sorry.”

“Are you sure you want to keep going? We can stop here and try again tomorrow.”

“No. I need to do this. I-I can’t stop here. I owe you some answers too.”

Tony watched the scene continue to unfold. He watched as Lucius appeared after Peter cried out his name.

“Peter!" An image of Lucius exclaimed. "What have you done?!"

 

His hands clenched. That old geezer knew damn well what was going on. Tony’s heart sank as he watched the hologram of Peter break down sobbing, and saw Lucius blaming his kid for “killing” him. He kept his stoic facade strong, while Peter was magically lowered to the ground and forced to answer the questions from the reporters. Then he watched the kid get stabbed in the back. He couldn’t show Peter just how badly this was hurting the both of them. This was Peter’s best chance to work through what happened, and Tony wasn’t about to blow it.

“Um, it was right here at that moment that I ended up in Lucius’s compound.” Peter awkwardly cleared his throat. “Did-did that come out right? I’m sorry it’s just...this is hard for me.”

“You’re doing great, kid.” said Tony. “So you were teleported into his lair or whatever he calls it?”

“Yeah. And then...”

Peter shuddered, and stood in place for at least a whole minute just shaking and trying not to hyperventilate.

 

_Do it for Mr. Stark. Do it for yourself. I can do this._

 

“And then, this happened.”

The scene continued to play out, and Peter stood to the side of the stage that was set up for him, its contents changing to suit the new environment based on his memories. Peter had to admit, this was really cool. Maybe, just maybe, this would actually work. Tony watched as his kid now lay motionless  on top of a large stone table. He swallowed hard, trying not to show his own emotional pain while seeing  the projection of Peter let out a disturbing, defeated fit of laughter. The kid had been truly broken by that magical bastard. Soon after the echoes of his laughter finally stopped, Peter listened once again by Lucius and his false promises of a new life and power. 

Before he knew it, the real Peter felt an arm rest over his shoulders, and pull him into a firm side hug. He let himself relax in Tony’s arm, and allowed himself a single tear to stream down his face. Tony remained expressionless, save for his jaw still clamped tightly shut.

“Do you hate me for what I did?” He asked, looking at his own holoprojection fall to his knees.

Tony looked at him dead in the eyes. “No.” He said coldly. “I hate _him.”_ He pointed to Lucius.

“Me too.”

 

They stood there silently as more of Peter’s memories played out, and after an hour of visiting and Peter explaining the first few days of David’s life, Tony had decided that he had seen enough. He finally had a good idea of how Peter’s identity was nearly destroyed, twisted by Lucius. Then he was tortured when he didn’t conform, when he failed a spell or showed any weakness. Tony imagined what it probably did to Peter to suffer that every day. Lucius and his cult had turned his gentle prodigy into a devil-worshiping psychopath who enjoyed burning his own friends with acid fingers, or whatever the hell those spells were. Magic? Really? What was this world coming to?

“That Adrian kid you talked about—What ever happened to him?”

Peter turned off the projector. “I don’t know. He disappeared back into the portal with the rest of my brothers..I mean-- friends. Or colleagues. I don’t know what to call them anymore.”

“Don’t stress it, kid.” Tony stopped him. “You’ve been through enough. FRIDAY, have Dum-E pick out a movie for us to watch. And uh...order a few pizzas.”

He turned his head to watch Peter smile at him. “You’ve been a real trooper today, kid. How about a movie night?”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.” Peter let his emotion get the better of him, and pounced on an unsuspecting Tony with a bear hug. “That sounds great!”

“Oof! Kid!” Tony squeaked out. “Air. I need air!”

Giggling, Peter released his bear hug grip, and blushed when Tony started taking in huge breaths to refill his lungs.

“My bad!” He smiled.

 

Later that evening, Tony had fresh popcorn in two large plastic bowls on the couch, and plates of pizza on the table in front of it. And soda. Plenty of soda. This was going to be a junk food night, and Peter could hardly wait. Pepper quietly sneaked into the kitchen, peeking at her two boys all snuggled up on the couch. She was so relieved that Tony was back, and with Peter again too. Those two were adorable to watch together. Tony had wanted a kid of his own ever since Peter came into his life, and although Pepper was still on the fence about that subject, she had to admit that her future husband would definitely make a good dad. She grabbed a glass of water, and leaned against the refrigerator. They were like two peas in a pod, bobbing their heads and singing along to a song playing in their movie.

“Look for the bare necessities, the simple bare necessities. Forget about your worries and your strife!” They sang along in unison.

Tony sang the next part. “I mean the bare necessities. That’s why a bear can rest at ease, with just the bare necessities of life!”

Quietly, she had pulled out her phone and recorded them while sipping her water. This was definitely a Kodak moment, she grinned. Pepper couldn’t wait to forward this to Tony. Maybe he could show it to May tomorrow, when he would talk with her about Peter and try to explain, carefully, what really happened. Tony was already canceling any upcoming meetings until his inevitable black eye—which he knew would be given to him courtesy of May Parker—would heal.

 

* * *

 

In an old abandoned cathedral, an old white bearded priest sat in a pew. His men were sitting with him, deep in prayer. Daniel knew more than anyone else, save for Lucius, that this would all only end in bloodshed. Despite the fact that they were fighting for a most righteous cause, there would be losses on both sides when the inevitable final conflict comes. Any kind of advantage would help their noble cause, to extinguish all that was deemed evil and to bring Sarenae’s love to all—and kill any blasphemers who stood in their way. This was his will. And his will was the will of Sarenrae. Blessed be her name.

 

“What news have the scouts brought?” he asked softly.

Lance answered him, keeping his voice low. “We know the location of Tony Stark and his apprentice named Peter. It seems that the poor kid was brainwashed by the enemy, and Tony is trying to save him.”

“Then this person also knows where Lucius is hiding.”

“Most likely, my lord.”

Daniel whispered a “thank you” prayer to his goddess. “See that our scouts keep a close eye on them. The moment that Stark gets the location, we move. Understood?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Lance bowed in respect to the great War Priest who had led them this far from home, and took his leave. Once outside, he ran his hands through his long brown hair, frustrated. They were servants of the Dawnflower herself. They were supposed to heal the people and slay the irredeemable, not hide in the shadows and spy on a psychologically scarred child and his father figure, using them as pawns instead of healing them. But this was war. Peter was his own age. He should not show sympathy. After all, this person had nearly killed him, and had served the demon Asmodeus—the Lord of Hell himself. How could he feel anything but hate at the amount of brethren slain by Stark’s apprentice?

Still, he thought to himself, there had to be hope that the apprentice could be redeemed. He had to give Peter a chance, but only one. After all, Lance was also Peter’s age, yet he never allowed himself to fall under any kind of brainwashing. Why should this kid be so special? Such thinking turned out to be unproductive for a knight like himself, and Lance forced the thoughts out of his mind. For now, he felt it best to bury his doubts and focus on his duty. Daniel needed him to keep watch for more of Lucius’s mages, and snuff out any spies that he could find. At age 16, Lance had seen many of his brothers and sisters fall in battle, and was prepared to lay down his life in the name of his goddess and the order that took him in almost two years ago. At age 16 he was fighting to the death in a war he had never asked for.

 

He missed the five oceans of their homeworld Golarion, and his fellow brothers left behind in the desert continent of Qadira, the birthplace of their order. Although Lance did not personally hail from there, he still missed it dearly. In Qadira, the Church of Sarenrae and her different sects were widespread, and immensely popular. They were admired everywhere they walked, and people joined them with hearts full of devotion. Lance always traveled alongside them and spent his childhood years learning and talking with the Dawnflower cultists that visited his home town. For years, he would pray and train his body and mind with religious devotion, waiting for the day he would finally be old enough to join them. Now he stood in the snow, trapped in an alien world. His own group that usually traveled by the hundreds, had now dwindled to less than 45 brothers and sisters.

Lance had felt nothing but sorrow and guilt ever since he had been teleported to this insane realm. There were no goblins, or ogres to slay. Nobody to admire their presence and ask for healing or prayer. No dragons, or walled cities under siege. Instead, the world was dominated by humans only, full of strange languages and cultures. They had strange metal machines they used in every day life, and relied heavily on incredibly advanced versions of a musket. It was too outrageous for the poor young knight, and he longed every day to just have this war end so that they could try to find a way home.

 

But that was never going to happen.

 

Not as long as Daniel, War Priest and leader of their sect of the Cult, still chose to wage this religious war. Sure, Sarenrae was a goddess of goodness and love, while Asmodeus was pure evil. But the two deities were not actually at odds with each other, so why should their followers be? Lance grimaced, remembering the day that Daniel and Lucius had met for the first time. There was a desert city that they were traveling towards, expecting a welcome and looks of awe as usual. The Cult of the Dawnflower was always so popular and well received in their land, so Daniel had assumed the same would be true for this city within the continent. It was a complete surprise to them when they found large mob of the city's inhabitants throwing stones at them, their eyes blazing a fiery red and golden color. They had all fallen to the darkness, the evil within the Weave—the source of all magic. It was neither good, nor evil. It merely contained all, and was within everything. It was even linked within fate and time itself.

One of the stones ended up striking Daniel on the shoulder, and he burned with righteous indignation. In the midst of the angry crowd was Lucius, laughing at them and revealing that he had already gotten to the city first. The Cult of Asmodeus had secretly infiltrated both the lowest and highest positions of the entire province years ago, and the satrap who ruled over it had opened the gates and handed his authority over to Lucius. Lance was shocked at such open hostility by Lucius. Their religious sects had not been at war with each other, or even at odds in recent years. Hell, their gods even had a common foe! Why would things change now? Whatever the reason, it led to Daniel’s first outburst of rage against the Cult of Asmodeus, and he ordered the battlemages to strike Lucius down… along with all of the people in the crowd.

Lance was among the many who pulled out their swords, feeling a cold chill down his spine as he tried not to contemplate what they were about to do. Daniel’s will was one with Sarenrae. This had to be the righteous thing to do. The battlemages charged their spells and, with the sounding of a horn, unleashed their divine fury upon all of them. There were hundreds of people in the streets, some weren’t even in the crowd. But all of their faces were painted with fear. But now, within the smoke and clashing of magic and steel on both sides, everybody just looked the same. They had insulted the honor of the Cult of the Dawnflower, now the consequences must be paid. It was the will of Sarenrae, and could not be disobeyed. As their saying goes, “There are no second chances in the desert.”

 

“Sir!” one of his scouts was already racing toward him with news. The young man collapsed in exhaustion at Lance’s feet, still trying to talk while gasping for air. Lance was instantly snapped back into the present moment.

“Seven blasphemers….” The scout inhaled sharply. “Seven of them, spotted on Ascan Avenue! They stormed into a church, but then left after a few minutes. They headed north up the same street.”

Lance closed his eyes. “They’re looking for us. And we must move quickly if they are getting closer to finding our sanctuary.”

He gripped his sword tightly, and opened his eyes in determination. “Good work. Report this to the War Priest, and tell him that I am taking eight of our battlemages.

“Yes, sir.”

Lance turned towards the group of his brothers who were outside with him, guarding the front, and ordered them to follow. The scout had barely made in inside by the time Lance and his men left. If there was one thing that could be said about the young knight, it was that he was swift, because once he had his mind set on something there was no changing his mind.

The battlemages had marched all the way to an Asian market near a large catholic church. They scanned the trees and sidewalks for any sign of their enemy. There was nothing so far, and Lance grunted in frustration. With a building as large as this church was, they could be anywhere inside, or not there at all.

“There! Coming from the doors!” one of the mages shouted.

Lance twirled himself around, sword at the ready. The large wooden doors to the church opened, and all seven of Lucius’s servants were running out of the building in a hurry. Maybe they weren’t quite well received, he thought. As soon as one of them had spotted him, both sides charged their spells, and ran at each other into the middle of the street.

One of the Asmodeus cultists shot a ray of frost across Lance’s group, creating an effective distraction for another cultist to dash to the sidelines of the fight and unleash a nasty fireball spell. Lance and his men dove to the ground, as everything within a 20ft radius was seared in flames. The explosion also ignited some nearby empty cars, causing them to explode as well. The entire area lit up with screams and cries for help. People started scrambling in a panic, and Lance called out to his men in the middle of it all.

“Everyone alive?!”

“All accounted for, sir!” one of his men answered. “Some are heavily burned but not dead!”

What a blessing, he thought. He grabbed the hilt of his sword and stared with fierce determination at the enemies in front of him. The faces of those “enemies” were just as young as he was, except for two of them, who looked to be in their 30’s. But their eyes, he noticed. They were burning red and yellow, full of evil and hate… So much darkness was pouring from them, that Lance didn’t even need to cast a spell to detect such a thing. Lucius had twisted them too, brainwashed them into serving a being as cruel and evil as Asmodeus.

“May the gods have mercy on you, O Lucius.” Lance growled. “For I will have none!”

“Sir! Shall we retaliate?! They’re attacking again!”

Lance snapped himself back into the present. He pulled his sword from its scabbard, and shouted to his fellow battlemages. “Everyone, charge!”

Both sides clashed into each other, with a mighty yell, and the streets lit up with sparks and flames. One mage fired at another. A Dawnflower battlemage stabbed a cultist through the gut, only to be stabbed in the back by another one. Lance himself was shot in the left shoulder by a spike of pure ice. He grunted in pain and fell on one knee. More of his own men quickly surrounded him and acted as a human shield in order to keep their commander safe.

“ _Is this all there is?”_ he wondered, watching as another one of his men fell to the ground before him. It was a friend of his, who trained alongside him when Lance had first joined. Now his friend laid cold in the snow, eyes open and mouth bleeding. His blood stained the tattered blue and while robes of their holy order. He was dead instantly, shot through from another ice spike.

 

“ _All this fighting we’ve done...and for what?”_

 

Lance forced himself back to his feet and whispered words of magic. Instantly, his sword was aflame and he let out an angry roar before slashing with fire and steel. A cultist fell to his burning blade, but the fight was far from over. He looked up just in time to see the black and red robes of an enemy cultist firing at him. It was a scrawny teenage boy with short blonde hair.

“Die!” he yelled as a blast of pure magic struck him in the chest.

Lance dropped his sword and fell on his back. As his vision faded, and the echoes of his fellow brothers and sisters fighting on began to fade, he smiled.

_To die. Perhaps that is what’s best for us now._

He closed his eyes, and prepared to welcome himself into the arms of Sarenae’s grace and healing. Instead, one of his mages cast a quick healing spell. Lance felt the pain ease from his chest, but was still too weak to get back onto his feet. The cultist who shot him charged up to him, knifing a Dawnflower mage along the way.

A sudden howling of sirens caused both sides of the fight to freeze to a perfect halt. Three of these blue and white “cars”, as this world called them, had pulled up. Behind them were more armored vehicles, with warriors pouring out of them. They weren’t like any other kingdom’s army he had seen, and their super advanced muskets were all pointed in their direction.

“Do not shoot!” Lance called out to the strange warriors. “We are servants of Sarenrae!”

The warriors didn’t seem phased by that at all. It seemed that they truly had no meaning in this world.

“Drop your weapons!” a loud voice from one of the cars rang out. “Now!”

 

One of the Asmodeus cultists shot a bolt of lightning at a police car, and blew it up. The warriors immediately opened fire. On all of them. Perhaps this was for the best. After all, in this world, their gods, their fight, meant nothing. Meaningless. Everything was so meaningless now.

“Retreat!” Lance yelled. “Retreat! Get out of here!”

Bullets rained down at all of them, friend and foe, but enough magic force fields and clerical healing kept the survivors from being killed instantly. Only a couple of his men obeyed and ran in the direction that would take them back to their sanctuary. Lance himself was still unable to walk, and tried to crawl behind a tree nearby for safety. He saw the mages, from both sides, working together to try and keep their own magical shields up. The loss of blood was too great, and Lance felt his vision start to fade.

 

_Together._

 

He closed his eyes, and allowed himself a single tear to fall in memory of his fallen brothers and sisters, in memory of his homeworld that he would never see again, and in regret that the solution was right next to them this entire time.

 

_We should have worked together._

 

The last thing he saw was that young heretic that had shot him, his golden bangs were long enough to tickle Lance’s cheeks. This was the end for him, and he knew it.

“Kill me.” he said, his voice hoarse and weak. “Please, end my suffering.”

The young cultist shoved a vial of foul-tasting liquid down Lance’s throat, and said plainly.

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I gave a bit more backstory to Lance and the homeworld that both of the cults are originally from. Dang I miss Pathfinder. Anyway, the next chapter will have May coming back, and her reaction to seeing her little Petey alive again. Lemme know what you think in the comments! Thanks for reading. =)


	14. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the two magical cults are fighting each other in the streets, Peter finally reunites with Aunt May and tries to explain what happened to him. May confronts Tony, questioning his ability to mentor her nephew.

Sheltered from the chaos of the outside world was Peter Parker, sitting alone on his bed. He stared at the floor, lost inside his own mind. His thoughts drifted slowly from Ned, to Aunt May. Tony had just told him that today they were going to visit her, and at least let her know that her nephew was alive. At first, Peter was more than reluctant, but Tony was able to soothe him. After all that happened in this tumultuous month, Peter knew well that May deserved to know what was really going on. It would be hard to see her though, after all he _did_ run away from home.

 

_It needs to be done. May doesn’t deserve to be hurt more than she already has been._

 

Peter couldn’t stop thinking about what May must have been going through all this time. She had to have seen his “death” on live television, and was no doubt heartbroken at the news. She had always treated him as her own son, ever since he lost his parents years ago. May worked hard to provide for them after Uncle Ben died, and after learning that her nephew was Spider-Man, she continued to support him...with some convincing from Mr. Stark.

“Ready?” Tony stood in the doorway, giving a warm smile.

Peter gave him a silent nod.

“Alright, kid. Let’s hit the road.”

 

The car ride was awkward, and the two of them never spoke to each other for the entire trip. Happy wasn’t quite sure if he preferred that or not at the moment. He pulled the limo into a parking spot on the curb, just in front of May’s apartment, and lowered the window that separated him from his passengers.

“We’re here.” Happy said no more than that.

Tony was the first to get out of the car, and Peter followed. He could hear his heart beating out of his own chest with every step closer to the door. Once they had finally made it to the front door, Tony looked down at Peter one more time. The poor kid. He could only imagine what was going through the kid’s mind right now.

“Whenever you’re ready, kid.”

Peter took a moment to ground himself, before knocking on the door. It was now or never. No more running. No more hiding and living as someone else. Whatever happened, he was going to face it. With his enhanced hearing, he recognized the sound of May’s footsteps running down the stairs and straight for the door. Mr. Stark must have told her that they were coming. Peter was halfway hoping that this would all be a surprise instead. Oh well.

The door flung open, and standing in the doorway was May, her eyes wet with tears of joy, and her mouth quivering.

“Peter!” she cried out as she embraced him. “My little Peter, you’re alive! You’re okay.”

She broke down and held him tight, completely ignoring Tony’s presence. He didn’t mind, although he preferred this to be done outside of the public eye.

“Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s go inside.”

May and Peter held onto each other, raising one another to their feet and making their way to the couch. Tony shut the door behind him, while Happy waited in the car and kept watch. There was no telling if or when either of the two magical cultists would show up. Although he had only encountered Daniel and the Cult of the Dawnflower for a brief moment, Tony never kept them far from his mind. One of the things that Peter’s “other self” had yelled at him kept repeating in his mind.

“ _Your self-righteous friends saved you because they find you useful. But you knew that, didn’t you?”_

Tony quickly drew his own conclusions based on what he had seen with Peter using the BARF, and that one sentence. Daniel wants Tony. Lucius wants Peter. Both sides were still fighting each other, and a news alert from his smartphone told him that the fighting had now spilled into the streets once again. “BREAKING: Two rival ‘magic’ gangs clash at Ascan Avenue in Forest Hills”, the headline read. “Casualties Reported.” It had to be them. He had to keep Peter away from them—away from all of this. He wasn’t going to lose the kid again.

“Peter, Sweetie.” May rubbed her fingers through the kid’s hair. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you again!”

“I missed you so much, May.” Peter sniffled. “I’m so sorry. I-I can explain.”

 

* * *

“I-I think it’s best if I just start from the beginning.” said Peter, fidgeting nervously. This was the moment he was most afraid of. What if May started to hate him for running away, and disappearing for over a month? What if she thought he didn’t love her anymore? Or worse… what if she stopped loving him?

“I-I...” Peter felt the words trapped in his throat. “I was being manipulated this whole time. It all started one night when I was being Spider-Man, and there was this guy running and screaming for help.”

Tony wanted so badly to comfort him, but this was May’s time. He continued fixing his eyes on the kid that he saw as his son, wishing that he could just fix all of this as easily as he fixed his Iron Man suits. He managed to keep his stoic expression, not even bothering to readjust himself at the end of couch or clear his throat. As much as it hurt him, he knew that May had every right to be angry right now. Tony began to sincerely believe that if he had just never let Peter into his life, the kid would probably have had a happier life. A safer life. A normal life.

Peter continued his story. “His name was Lucius. I saved him from some guy who was trying to kill him. I don’t even know why, but all of a sudden I felt just—rage. I-I couldn’t think of anything but to hurt that guy, even kill that guy! Then I just lost control, May. I’m so sorry. I lost control and punched him in the jaw and--”

He broke down again. He felt so pathetic, as if something inside him was just laughing at his pain.

“I thought I killed him! So that’s why I ran from you all the time, why I just closed myself off from everyone.”

“Oh, sweetie.” May’s heart shattered into pieces. She couldn’t stand to see her nephew in so much pain.

Peter felt his chest start to run out of air, his breaths getting shorter and shorter.

“Sweetie, look at me.” May placed her tender hands on his face. “Breathe.”

He tried. It wasn’t working. He clenched his chest in agony.

“May.” He tried to speak but the lack of air was getting worse. “I changed. I became-”

 

_I can’t do this._

 

Tony saw the fear in Peter’s eyes, the panic at revealing his other self to her. He couldn’t just sit back and watch anymore.

“We’re here for you kid.” His voice was soft and soothing as he slid closer to Peter, still keeping his hands off of him. He saw that sharp angry glare of a heartbroken aunt, and it was aimed right at him. Tony couldn’t keep his eyes off of Peter’s shaken body, still trembling and crying for air. “Lucius brainwashed him, May.” He blurted.

 

_Damn it. It would have been better if Peter said it._

 

May couldn’t believe her ears. She turned her attention to Peter, still in a state of panic, and shushed him quietly. Right now all she wanted was to calm him down, let him know that he was safe.

“Peter.” She whispered with compassion. “Sweetie. I’m right here.”

 

_I can’t give in._ Peter said internally.  _I have to keep trying. I have to keep going._

 

“It’s true.” he sputtered out, and took a deeper breath.

May gave him a moment to breathe, trying to soothe him and calm him down.

“That’s it, Peter. I’m here.”

“I have another person.” Peter said in between breaths. No matter how badly his lungs burned and longed for air, he wasn’t going to stop. He couldn’t. “Another ‘me’. His name is--”

He couldn’t breathe. “I need to lay down.”

Tony instantly shot up out of the couch, and helped May lay the kid on his side. “Slow down your breathing, kid.” He knew all too well what was happening to Peter.

“I’m lightheaded.”

“You’re breathing too much oxygen, you need to slow down. Focus on our voices.”

“I can’t.”

“You _can_.”

“I can’t!”

May knelt beside Peter’s head, and kissed him on the head. She held his hand tight and whispered in his ear. “You’re okay, baby. We’re here.”

Peter tried again to take a slow breath. He couldn’t give up. He had to fight. There was no other choice.

“Hurts.” He forced out of his lungs, then squeezed his eyes shut. His chest hurt so badly. Was he dying?

 

“Peter.”

 

_Everything’s going black…_

 

“Can you hear me, kid?”

 

_Help me! Somebody! Mr. Stark!_

 

“It’s going to be okay, baby.”

 

_Aunt May. She still loves me._

 

“That’s it, kiddo.” he could hear Mr. Stark’s voice, but it sounded as if he were underwater. “You’re doing great.”

 

_Mr. Stark. You never abandoned me._

 

Peter felt his senses start to return, and attempted another deep breath. This time, he felt his lungs take in every bit of oxygen that they could get. Then, he held it in for a couple of seconds before exhaling forcefully. It wasn’t the most zen-like of breathing, but it worked. Another deep breath, and he felt himself start to return to the world around him.

He let out a calmer, more controlled exhale of air. “Thank you.” He said, exhausted. “I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s so hard to talk about this. To talk about everything. I was scared that you wouldn’t believe me.”

May sighed at him, still holding his hand. “Peter, I know you’re telling the truth. You never have to worry about that.”

“My other self. His name is David, and I think Lucius created him.”

He saw the wide-eyed confusion and shock painted all over Aunt May’s facial reaction. But this was it. He felt that if he was going to tell her the truth, he might as well go all out.

“I didn’t kill that guy, Aunt May. Lucius did. Then he tricked me into thinking I was the murderer, framed me for killing Mr. Stark, broke every sense of self that I had and then he...”

Peter stopped.

 

_Don’t say it._

_I’m going to say it._

_You’ll regret it._

_I need to be honest. No more running._

 

“I’m listening, Peter.” May told him, her eyes watering.

“He gave me a new name, a new identity. He tortured me, and other people that were in there too. God, I don’t want to go back there. But I had friends there. And they were my brothers, and sisters in the faith. In Asmodeus. I remember that. I remember everything David does, I just can’t stop it. It’s like I’m just a spectator in my own head-” Peter gripped his hair tightly enough for Tony and May to rush and hold him on both sides of his body, trying to keep him feeling secure and safe.

“I’m just watching! Watching myself set people on fire, or use magic as a weapon to kill. Oh my God, Aunt May I killed people! Oh God, oh God, Oh God...”

“Peter, that wasn’t you.” Tony said sternly. “That was never you.”

May was speechless. Part of her was agonizing over the pain that her nephew was feeling, and wanted to just hold him tight and shelter him from the world. The other part of her wanted to tear Tony Stark limb from limb and beat him half to death. It was his fault that Peter was ever Spider-Man in the first place. No, that wasn’t quite true. She had to admit that much, but Tony did encourage it. She hated every bit of Peter’s vigilantism, but knew that she was literally powerless to stop him. Besides, Tony promised to keep him safe. But what she was seeing now—a broken down teenage boy—was that what Tony Stark would dare call “safe”?

“My hands.” Peter’s voice trembled. “They were my hands.”

“Sweetie.” May helped him sit upright. “You don’t have to say any more if you don’t want to. Just know that I love you. I always will.”

“Tired.” He said weakly. “I feel so tired.”

“Then you can lay down, right here on the couch. Okay?”

Peter nodded and let himself fall back down. After he closed his eyes, May shot another angry glare at Tony. He kept his eyes on the kid, his face ridden with guilt. Tony knew damn well that May was ready to tear him a new one at any moment, but he wanted to make sure that it was away from the kid. He kept himself silent, and merely pointed his fingers upstairs towards the kid’s bedroom door. May got the message, and motioned for him to go first.

 

* * *

 

May stood in the doorway, staring down at Peter’s sleeping form below. She swallowed hard to stop any flow of tears. There was no more time for tears. She was too angry, no. Too outraged to cry now.

“What happened to my little boy, Stark?” Her voice cut him to the core.

“A lot, May.” He answered, keeping his voice down. “He’s been through a lot. I’ve been helping him-”

“’Helping?’” She burst, straining to keep herself quiet so that Peter wouldn’t wake up. “You call this helping him? Look at him, Stark. He’s not himself anymore. Ever since you flew yourself into our lives, my boy has _never_ been safe.”

Tony’s heart sank. She was right. May knew that her words had stung, but she wasn’t about to stop there.

“First, you fly him to Germany and he gets his ass kicked by Steve Rogers and his merry band of war criminals. Then you give him a brand new fancy suit and he nearly drowns. You take away his suit, and he gets crushed by a building that was dropped on him by a man wearing giant metal wings, and now this! Is this safe to you, Mr. Stark? Because if it is, I’ve got news for you-”

“May, please.” Tony couldn’t take it anymore. Each word stung more than the next, but May didn’t stop.

“You’re a terrible mentor. And you’d make a terrible father.”

 

He didn’t know what to say. What could he say to that? May was right. Everything he did to try and improve Peter’s quality of life and keep him safe always ended in disaster. But, what was this about a building crushing his kid? Peter never told him anything about that. Of course he wouldn’t. The kid was just as stubborn as he was. Always wanting to do things himself.

“You’re right.” Tony felt so defeated. He found himself wishing that he would have just died in Siberia.

“But for some reason, Peter adores you. He looks to you like you’re his father, and it’s only because he needs you right now that I’m not being taken to jail right now, do you understand me?”

“You don’t need to try and make empty threats at me-”

A quick slap across his face was enough to shut his big mouth, and shatter his ego into pieces. Tony struggled to keep himself together, blinking away his shock at May. “I deserve that.” He said. “But what Peter doesn’t deserve is to lose the only person in his life right now who can help him.”

May narrowed her eyes, and crossed her arms. She knew where this was going, and she hated Stark for every bit of it.

“Please, let him stay with me for now. I’m giving him therapy. It’s the best that money can buy. I can help him. I know you hate me, and I don’t blame you. But please. Do this for Peter. We both love him. We both want the best for him, and I’ll personally see to it that Lucius will suffer for everything he’s done to him. I swear on my life, May.”

 

She knew he was right. Peter loved Tony like a son loved his father. He needed a father figure in his life, especially now. And although May worked as much overtime as her body could handle just to make ends meet, she also knew that if anyone could afford the amount of care and healing that Peter needed, it was Tony Stark.

“Fine.” She whispered, looking back down at her nephew sleeping below. “He can stay with you for now, but I want him safe.”

“He will be. I’ve got Happy, FRIDAY, the best security, the whole nine yards. He’ll be safe.”

They both walked back downstairs, and stood in front of the kid that they loved so much. He was still asleep, snoring loudly and squirming. Tony squatted down to Peter’s eye level, and patted him gently on the head. There was no denying it. He loved this kid, and he was going to do everything in his power to fix what those cultists had broken in him. No matter what it took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel terrible that my alternate title for this chapter was going to be "Reunited and I don't feel so good, Mr. Stark."  
> lol
> 
> Also I updated the story summary bc I didn't like the old one. What do you think?


	15. This Is Your Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fighting is continuing to heat up, and as the body count rises, certain key players in the conflict are beginning to have doubts. Meanwhile, Peter struggles to decide what to do while his brothers are fighting and dying, while Tony continues to try and keep him safe.

Adrian poured one of his own healing potions down the throat of a mortally wounded young knight of Sarenrae, ignoring the fact that he was aiding his enemy. The knight, whom he remembered from their first encounter in Manhattan, was begging for death. Why? Adrian couldn’t understand it. This guy was supposed to want to kill him, not beg to be the one killed. Had he lost his mind?

“No.” he answered the knight.

“Why?” the knight asked, sounding disappointed. “Don’t you know who I am, blasphemer? I am Lance of the-”

“I know." Adrian interrupted him. "We’re at war and we’re supposed to kill each other. But-”

 

Adrian looked back at his fellow elite battlemages. They were struggling to keep up their magic shields against the constant barrage of bullets that cracked the surface with every hit. It wouldn’t be long until it shattered, and they would all be killed. And for what? Lucius and the instructors that served under him had only said that they were our enemies, and that the Dawnflower cult had made the first strike. But that never fully answered why they were still fighting. Why was _he_ even fighting in this? He had given his life and soul to the service of Lucius and Asmodeus, but he never asked to be thrown into life and death situations like this. 

 

“But, I don’t want to fight anymore.”

 

Lance was speechless. Was he not the only one who wanted the fighting to stop?

Adrian pulled Lance’s limp body  away from the mages, and the quickly deteriorating shield that was keeping the survivors alive. 

“What are you doing?” Lance exclaimed. “You’re going to kill us both!”

Adrian shushed him. “That thing is going to shatter at any moment, and we’ll all be eating bullets for our last meal! Trust me!”

Lance watched helplessly, as his enemy muttered magical words. At first, he automatically assumed that they would be some kind of perverse utterance of a demonic language, typical of a devil  worshiper. But as he listened, he recognized some of those words himself. This wasn’t an evil spell. It was an invisibility spell.  He wasn’t sure what to think of this, and kept quiet while this blasphemer dragged his body away from the area of conflict. 

“Wait.” Lance whispered. “I think I can walk now. I feel the potion working.”

Adrian let go, and helped Lance to his feet.

“Where do we go?” he asked the young knight.

“Away from here.”

The two held hands so that they did not lose track of each other, and ran  as fast as they could before the invisibility spell would eventually wear off. Adrian led him just outside of a small supermarket on 71 st road. There was plenty of shaded areas behind the bushes for them to hide. The spell wore off  just in time . 

“Come on, Lance!” he said urgently. “You can’t be seen in those clothes! You’ll be spotted!”

Lance muttered his own magic words and quickly shaped his blue and white robes into a similarly colored  puffer coat and fleece cargo pants. He wished that winter in this world would end quickly. The desert heat was much easier for him to deal with. Adrian’s jaw dropped at seeing the knight’s magical skill. 

“Whoa. Can you teach me that?”

“Certainly not!” Lance scoffed. “We’re enemies, aren’t we?”

“No, Lucius is your enemy!” Adrian said fervently. “I am not your enemy, dude! I saved your frickin’ life!”

Lance knew that he had made a mistake. He sighed heavily, his eyes were downcast.  “I’m sorry. I just- I’m lost.”

Adrian nodded in agreement. “I am too. I can’t do this anymore. This fighting. I’m not a warrior, I just… I just wanted to start over, to just start my life all over again. I never wanted to be part of this stupid war of yours.”

“Ours?!” Lance shouted. “Your side started it!”

“I don’t care!” Adrian yelled back at him. “I don’t know who threw the first punch or whatever, and I don’t care! I just want it to stop! It isn’t even our fight! None of us started this!”

Lance watched in pity as Adrian struggled not to break down. He knew what the kid was going through, because he was there too. Now what were they going to do? He couldn’t go back to trying to kill someone who had just saved his life, but he also could not dare to abandon the rest of his only family. Adrian had a point though. Neither of them had asked for this violence. But if this wasn’t their fight…

 

_Whose fight is this?_

 

The sound of more gunfire, followed by screaming was enough to jolt him from his thoughts. Adrian cried and covered his ears, while Lance dropped to the ground with him and stayed low. His eyes were wide open circles, stricken with terror.

 

_And who is dying because of it?_

 

“Oh my God.” Adrian whimpered, curling into a ball. “They’re dead.”

 

Lance shuddered, and shut his eyes tightly to keep any tears from falling.

 

_He’s right. I can feel it. They’re all dead. This can’t be happening. We’re all going to die in this world, we’ll never get home. We’ll never get home!_

 

Adrian cried softly. “Lance, I-I can’t do this anymore, and I don’t know what to do. Let’s just run and hide until this is all over.”

“I can’t abandon them.” the young knight said to himself. “I can’t abandon all that I have believed and fought for. Especially for a servant of our enemies.”

“What? But I just saved you!”

Lance was not one to be fooled easily. In his mind, this was all just a plot by this clever mage to lead him into the den of Lucius and his cultists, where they would kill him for sure. He could feel his adrenaline surging through his body, the shock of hearing his brethren cry out before never seeing the light of day again...No. He would not give in to the temptation, whether it was to join Adrian’s side or run away altogether. He was having none of it.

“You’re trying to trick me!” he yelled and struck Adrian with the pommel of his sword. He was knocked out cold.

 

_What that cultists was saying, it was too good to be true. He was lying. They all lie. It’s in their devilish nature._

...

_But maybe, there is a chance that he’s telling the truth._

 

Lance couldn’t bring himself to just leave him there, not after saving his life. Sarenrae was a goddess of mercy, healing and second chances. Perhaps he could show that same mercy now. It felt like the right thing to do, and if Adrian truly did want to hide from Lucius, what better place than the one that he has yet to find? Maybe there was a glimmer of hope that this conflict could end in peace.

 

_Maybe._

 

* * *

 

Daniel stood outside the doors to the cathedral, his battlemages prepared for anything. It had been hours since he heard anything from Lance, aside from the report that two of his mages had given him after running from the battle. What if he had been killed? Suddenly the young knight materialized right in front of him, along with an unconscious member of the Cult of Asmodeus.

“Lance, you made it back.” He sounded relieved at first, until he realized that nobody else had come back with them.

“Where are the rest of your men?”

“They have fallen. All of them, save for me and this young boy here.”

Lance dropped Adrian onto the snowy ground as if he were just cheap baggage.

“I’ve managed to capture one of the Lucius's followers. He saved my life, though I do not know why.”

Daniel’s face turned grim. “So you spared him. He who has slaughtered our brothers and sisters? You just...thought to bring him here, to our only safe haven? Are you mad?!”

“I showed him mercy, my lord. He spared my life, and so in accordance with the nature of Sarenrae I have spared his.” Lance knelt and lowered his head to show reverence to the War Priest. “It was not my intention to displease you.”

“I know you meant well, Lance.” David said as he waved his hand, motioning for a battle mage to stand over the captive. “But we cannot take chances, not when we are in such a weakened position. There are so few of us left. Fewer now that six more of our brothers and sisters have been slain by his kind.”

“It wasn’t them this time, my lord.”

Daniel glanced up, curious.

“Warriors of this world, wearing armor I have never seen, and carrying advanced weaponry...They shot at all of us.”

“So we are cornered.” Daniel lamented. “We have no allies in this fight. Not in this world. I feared that would be the case. But all the more reason for us to be careful and take no chances. Kill him.”

The battlemage raised his sword to strike Adrian, who was still laying in the snow, helpless. Lance shot his head up to look upon his master. He couldn’t just let this person die.

“My lord, please wait!”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Are you questioning my judgment?”

Lance knew what questioning his leader would lead to, so he had to think carefully before speaking again if he wanted to live.

“No my lord. I simply would like to present an alternative. He can be our prisoner, and we can try to turn him to our side. Or interrogate him into giving us the location of Lucius and his lair, then we can wipe them all out.”

Daniel took a moment to ponder his servant’s position. It was true that neither side really knew where the other was hiding, and if he found out first then he would have the advantage. They could infiltrate Lucius’s lair and raze it to the ground, and Daniel himself could finally put a sword through his hated enemy’s stomach. It would be sweet revenge for the insult he suffered back in Qadira. Yes, he thought, that could work.

“Very well.” he said. “He lives for now. But if he causes any trouble, I will make you kill him yourself.”

“Yes sir.”

Lance watched his brothers drag Adrian into the church, and followed suit. Standing up to Daniel like that could have gotten him killed. He couldn’t figure out where the courage to do that had come from. A knight like himself, in the service of the Dawnflower for so long, should not question his superior.

_And yet, it seemed so wrong to just do nothing._

 

_What’s happening to me?_

 

* * *

 

Peter was no fool. Before the drive to Aunt May’s place, he asked Mr. Stark if he had heard anything about the cultists. The old man replied “no” and then immediately tried to change the subject. Lucius and his servants had conditioned every one of his students to act with hostility toward any Dawnflower cultists that they came across while recruiting. Surely something would have happened by now, unless Mr. Stark was hiding something from him.

 

_What if it already happened?_

 

Maybe Lucius had forgotten to come and get him, and the final battle that he kept going on about had already taken place? Whose side won? Peter started to wonder if Lucius had perished in the fighting then, and maybe he could be left alone now. He’d finally feel safe again.

What happened earlier was embarrassing. He couldn’t believe he let himself break like that, in front of everyone! Such a failure. Peter felt like such a failure. He opened his eyes, and found himself on May’s couch, with Tony’s million dollar suit jacket as his blanket. Mr. Stark himself was standing right in front of him, a look of relief spread across his aging face. Tony and May were both there waiting for him.

 

_They stayed with me, even though I showed my weakness. Even though I told Aunt May about the other me. She stayed._

 

“You okay, kid?” Tony patted him lightly on the shoulder.

“Yeah.” He lied. Peter was far from okay, but now he started to feel some hope again. That voice in his head was wrong. The two people he loved the most did not desert him. They didn’t abandon him.

“We’re here for you, Pete.” said Mr. Stark, as if he knew what the kid was thinking already. “May and I—we’re never going to leave you.”

“Peter, baby.” May soothed, placing a tender hand on his cheek. “We love you too much. You’re going to get through this.”

Peter didn’t know what to say. He tried to force some words of gratitude from his throat, but nothing would come out. His mouth refused to open and his throat tightened up, as if his body refused to allow him to speak. So he simply nodded, and embraced them both in his arms. He wasn’t sure if things were really going to be okay, but at least he knew that he wasn’t alone. For now.

The car ride back to Tony’s place felt like it took hours. Tony wished that the kid would stop staring out of the window, looking for any sign of his “brothers and sisters” out there fighting. He knew that was what Peter was doing, and he also knew that it was only a matter of time before the kid found out what had happened to some of them just moments ago. Tony silenced his phone while Peter was still sleeping on the couch, but he kept himself up to date on the situation in Forest Hills. He cursed when he read that there were no survivors in the end. Peter wasn’t going to take that well.

 

_I have to hide this. I have to shelter him. Protect him._

 

He tried not to show his nervousness as Peter kept staring out that damn window.

“Peter.” he said sharply. “Kid, look at me for a second.”

“Sorry, Mr. Stark. I guess I’m just, nervous. My old friends. They’re out there, and I’m just worried about them.”

“I know, kid.” Tony exhaled sharply, frustrated. “I know.”

 

_Change the subject, you dumbass. Don’t let Peter go again._

 

“So how was your nap?” He said, clearing his throat and shifting his posture.

Peter blinked at him, suspicion written all over his face. “Good.” He replied. “It was good. But, I’m more worried about you right now, Mr. Stark.”

There was a small hint of venom in the kid’s voice. It was eerily similar to the way Peter’s other self spoke to him. The thought of Peter shifting back into David sent chills down Tony’s spine. Peter could practically smell the nervousness of his mentor as he pressed further.

“I think, Mr. Stark-” Suddenly Peter felt that the voice within him was not his own. “-that you’re hiding something.”

Tony froze, but kept his face from showing the fear that was paralyzing him at the moment. Thank God that Happy finally pulled into the driveway. As Peter’s door was open, Tony took the opportunity to try and change the subject again.

“Home at last, Underoos!” He faked his enthusiasm. “Come on, let’s go. I got Pepper ordering pizza tonight.”

“O-ok!” Suddenly Peter’s voice returned to normal. “Sounds great, Mr. Stark!”

“Thank God.” Tony said internally.

Peter kept his head lowered, eyes focused directly in front of him as they made their way inside. Tony couldn’t help but feel that something was a little off about the kid, but for now he was just glad that David hadn’t emerged. What was he going to do? He hadn’t had the chance to set up a counselor, and he couldn’t keep the news of the recent bloodbath from Peter forever. One way or another, the kid was going to find out.

 

_I’m going to need to tell him._

 

“Pete.” He called out as Peter made an excited dash to the living room. The kid stopped in his tracks and turned around.

“Come here. I have something to tell you.”

Peter ran back towards his mentor, still excited about the pizza. Tony tried to prepare himself for being about to shatter his kid’s happiness, but the truth was better than lying to him.

“Peter, I want you to know something.” He said, kneeling down and placing his hands on Peter’s shoulders.

The look on Mr. Stark’s face said it all. Something bad happened. But what was it?

“Kid-” Tony started. “What’s happening out there, with those cultists—That doesn’t concern you.”

“Something happened, didn’t it?” Peter’s voice was bitter. He knew. He had to have known. “ _ **Didn’t it**_ , Mr. Stark?”

The kid clenched his jaw in anger. His eyes pierced straight through Tony's soul.

“There was an.. _incident_ earlier today.” Tony kept his eyes on Peter. “And they were involved. Both sides.”

The kid’s voice grew colder, more piercing. “What happened to them, Mr. Stark?”

 

Tony paused, his eyes full of concern for the boy he grew to know as his son. His eyes were the same, but his voice was so...different.

“Where are they?!” Peter was yelling at this point. “What happened to my family? My friends?!”

“They’re dead, Peter!” Tony shouted back, still keeping his gaze on the boy. “The ones who were involved, they were gunned down. Oh God, Peter I’m so sorry. I know what they meant to you but I just didn’t-”

Peter just stared in blank shock. “Adrian.” He whispered. “Was Adrian there?!”

“I don’t know. But listen to me! This isn’t your fight, Peter! This isn’t your fight!”

“Then whose is it?!” Peter burst angrily out of Tony’s grasp and headed for the door. His eyes were still brown, Mr. Stark noticed. This wasn’t David, at least from what he could tell.

“My friends are dying out there! And I’m just sitting here all comfy while they’re out there fighting! And _**dying!**_ How is this not our fight?! How is this not _my_ fight?!” 

Tony started after him. “Peter, _you_ didn’t start this mess!” He shouted. “Lucius did! That crazy quack from that Dawnflower cult or whatever-- they started this! Not you! You’re just Peter Parker.”

Peter stopped in his tracks, and turned to face his father figure.

“You’re Peter Parker. A good-natured,  goofy kid from Queens, who takes care of his smoking hot aunt and saves people as Spider-Man. You’re a scientific genius, and you make everyone around you smile. Okay? That is who you are. You’re not a magical cult member who goes around killing people and blowing up everything around you, not caring about collateral damage. Peter, that’s those guys out there, but that’s not  _ you.” _

 

_Who am I?_

 

“I’m Peter Parker.” His voice was soft, but strong. “You’re right Mr. Stark. I know you’re right.”

 

_They’re dying, Peter._

 

“But they’re still out there. I can’t just abandon them. I-I don’t know what to do.”

 

Tony embraced him in his arms. “Just stay with me for now, kid. Stay with me, and we’ll fix this. We’ll get through this together. This here, now.  _ **This** _ is your fight, kid.”

 

“ _This is your fight.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait! I was in a dark place mentally and finally pulled myself out of it. With work and depression and stuff, it just got too much and I kind of took a long break. Things are better now so I'm going to continue. Thanks for continuing to read my story, and be sure to leave a comment! =)


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